The Daughter of the Sea
by Avalain Nightshade
Summary: Ophelia Bennett has been in love with her best friend, Will Turner, for years. When he's sentenced to death for crimes against the Crown, Ophelia promises to marry Lord Beckett for Will's pardon. She swears to do anything to ensure that Will gets to live his happily ever after, even at the cost of her own.
1. Will's Return

"In the name of God, William Turner, I can't take my eyes off you for ten minutes before you go do something rash and life-threatening!"

William Turner only laughed. "I apologize for worrying you, Ophelia—but I am here now, and that is what matters. How have you been the past couple of months? Hopefully you have been well, seeing as Mr. Brown only drinks and sleeps these days."

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. As worried as she had been about her greatest friend the past five months, she was even more relieved to find him in front of her now. He had disappeared one night when a bunch of cursed pirates from the _Black Pearl_ had opened fire on the town. They had taken Elizabeth Swann, the governor's daughter, captive, and of course Will simply **_had_** to go after her and nearly get himself killed in the process.

"I've been bored," she responded banteringly. As she spoke, she grabbed a blanket and draped it around Will's shoulders. He had returned late at night in the middle of a rainstorm, and had given Elizabeth his jacket to keep her dry. Therefore, Ophelia felt it her responsibility to make sure Will would be alright.

"Bored?" asked Will.

"Yes, bored," confirmed Ophelia, striking up a fire in the fireplace. "You're mad if you think Mr. Brown would've practiced swordplay with me. I've had to practice all by myself!"

At this, a smirk formed on Will's face. "If that's the case, we have a lot of practice to do."

Choosing to ignore Ophelia's protests, he stood up and grabbed two swords. He handed one hilt first to Ophelia; the other he extended her direction. "Are you ready? One—two—"

"Will, you need to **_rest,_** " she retorted, but it didn't look like Will would be having any of it.

"Three!"

Right when Will said that, he lunged toward her. Ophelia yelped and quickly parried; despite her surprise and despite not having her mentor and friend around for the past five months, she was pleased to see that she was holding her own against him rather well.

"Ha!" exclaimed Ophelia, leaping back to avoid Will's sword. "Is this all you can do? I would've thought that your journey improved your skill!"

Will glared at her as if she'd just issued a personal insult. "You will regret saying that, Ophie!"

She merely laughed and danced out of his reach.

For a while more, with Will assessing her performance the way he always did, they sparred. It went on for a while until at last he got the best of her and disarmed her. At the end of it, Ophelia was pleased to notice that Will seemed winded.

"Very good!" he exclaimed. "Very good… you **_have_** been practicing!"

"Three hours a day," she grinned, "just like you."

Will grinned, his dark eyes gleaming with something that Ophelia hoped was pride. "That's good to hear," he replied, nodding.

"How much did you have to fight during your journey?"

Now he laughed and shook his head. "More than perhaps you'd like to hear."

"Oh, but it'd be a most wonderful tale, I'm sure," she giggled, feeding the fire to keep it burning. She gently guided him toward the fire and sat him down on a barrel in front of it. "Tell me about it."

She was answered with a curt laugh. "Anything for you, Ophie. It was a long journey with Captain Jack… we hijacked a ship from the navy and found a cursed pirate ship from there. Have you ever heard of those old curses? The ones about pirate gold?"

Ophelia blinked. "I don't believe I have. What was the curse?"

"The gold was cursed… if anyone touched or spent the gold of the Aztecs, they would never die."

"That hardly sounds like a terrible curse," frowned Ophelia. "Wouldn't most people **_want_** to live forever?"

Will shrugged. "That was their thinking. But after many long years, they lost their sense of taste or feel. They could not enjoy life as they once had… and in the moonlight, they would waste away to skeletons. They were undead—they could not be killed."

"And you fought them?" she whispered in horrification.

He offered her a hesitant smile. "Not alone. But yes…"

There was a silence for a while as Ophelia processed this information. She loved Will immensely—he was the most important person in her life. She had fallen in love with him years ago, and had been his friend for even longer. She had been worried about him for so long… but he was back, and safe, and home.

He'd promised to come back to her—and he did.

"Well," she began, sighing slowly, "the next time you go off to fight cursed pirates, be sure to take me with you. I could've sworn that you promised we'd do everything together?" This last was said with a knowing smirk, one that Will did not miss.

He laughed and placed an arm around her shoulder. "Of course we will," he promised. "But everything was chaotic when I left. Now, though—if it comforts you, I reiterate my promise that we shall do everything together."

Ophelia smiled, indeed comforted. She remembered the first time he had told her they'd always be together… the first time they met.

 _She had been twelve, and was starving on the streets. She was rummaging through a trash can in the back alley by the bakery when a young voice asked, "What are you doing?"_

 _Ophelia leapt back, startled. She didn't think anyone would want to chase her if she were rooting through a trash can. Wasn't that where people put things they didn't want?_

 _Sheepishly, she hid the apple core she'd found behind her back and glanced upon the person who'd caught her. It was a young boy, not much older than her._

 _"_ _Well?" asked the boy, his dark eyes curious. His hair was tied back, and there were grimy stains on his clothes._

 _Ophelia sighed and held out the apple core, but she was silent._

 _The boy moved forward and stared at it. Then he glanced at her gaunt figure and pale face. "Are you trying to get something to eat?"_

 _She nodded, ashamed to admit it._

 _But the boy didn't look disgusted. If anything, he looked sad. But he put aside that sadness and smiled at her—it was the first act of kindness Ophelia had received in a long, long time._

 _"_ _I have some money. I've been saving up for a little," said the boy, extending his hand to show her it was true. Ophelia could see the glints of gold and silver in his palm. "Maybe we could both get something to eat. I'm hungry, too."_

 _She blinked again and stared at him. Why would he help her?_

 _"_ _Why?" she asked._

 _He shrugged. "We're both hungry. And you won't get anything with that strategy."_

 _"_ _I… have nothing to give back to you," she confessed, shuffling her feet._

 _"_ _You can be my friend."_

 _Ophelia's gaze shot back up to the boy standing in front of her. She had never thought that someone not on the streets could ever offer her an invitation of friendship, much less a single act of kindness such as this. She worried that perhaps the boy might change his mind later on, and was terrified of accepting._

 _"_ _What's your name?" he asked._

 _"_ _Ophelia. You?"_

 _"_ _Will."_

 _She nodded and tried to smile, but Ophelia was afraid it was more like a grimace. Just then, her stomach rumbled—embarrassed, she glanced down at the ground. But when she looked back up, Will was grinning._

 _"_ _Come on, then," he said. "Let's go get some lunch. It can be you and me, together."_

 _This almost seemed too much to hope for. "Together? As… friends?"_

 _"_ _Sure!" Will seemed no less than delighted by her speaking the word, as if her merely acknowledging it was enough to give him hope. "We can be friends. We can do everything together."_

 _Delighted, Ophelia finally allowed herself to smile. She'd never had a real friend before. "Everything?" she asked._

 _"_ _Everything," he confirmed, nodding. He held out a hand—and Ophelia shook it. "Now let's get some lunch."_

 _"_ _Together," Ophelia murmured._

 _The word felt sweet in her mouth; sweeter than any food or relief could be._

Ophelia was suddenly brought out of her thoughts by Will's voice. "What are you thinking about? You have that look."

Knowing that she was caught red-handed, Ophelia smiled sheepishly. "I was just thinking about the first day we met. It seems so long ago, and yet… like yesterday."

Will grinned at her and tightened his grip around her shoulder. "I understand. It was a very fortunate day for us both."

"Perhaps more for me than you," she laughed, but Will would have none of it. He waved off her comment and simply sat, staring at the fire for a minute… Ophelia noticed that it was now **_he_** who was drifting off into his own thoughts.

Right when she was about to ask what he was thinking about, Will sighed and blurted out, "Ophelia, I must ask if I can tell you something off topic?"

He sounded anxious, for some reason. Ophelia withheld her frown. He didn't need to feel nervous about telling her anything. They were best friends, after all. What exactly was he going to say? She hoped he would not bring up a desire to become a pirate—how much he would have changed if that were the case. The last she had seen him, he was **_fighting_** a pirate, Captain Jack Sparrow. Ironically, the two had teamed up to bring Elizabeth back to Port Royal.

A smirk threatened to come over her lips when she remembered she had bashed said Captain Jack Sparrow on the back with a stool. **_That_** had been fun.

She was not conscious of replying, "Yes, of course. You know you can tell me anything."

Will smiled again; that was another thing Ophelia had missed. He always seemed to reserve a specific sort of smile for her, and he wore it now when he sighed, "I know I can, do not worry. Anyway… I know this seems sudden, and hardly anyone knows… but I just wanted to tell you—Elizabeth and I are going to be married in the spring."

Ophelia blinked. "Married?"

"Yes—her father has approved it already, when we returned just a few hours ago. Being my best friend, I value your opinion. What do you think?"

Seeing the hopeful look on Will's face, Ophelia swallowed back the burning in her throat and blinked the tears out of her eyes. She would never dream of withholding his happiness. Seeing the hope and joy in his eyes as he said Elizabeth's name, Ophelia knew she could never tell him her true feelings.

And so she replied, "Oh, Will, I think—I think that's **_wonderful._** "


	2. Chapter 1

The town was bustling, never mind that it was the ungodly hour of five in the morning. People were walking here and there, to the market, the tanner, the bakery. A girl wearing a formal pink dress entered the bakery to fetch some strawberry pastries.

"G'morning, Ophelia!" exclaimed the baker as she entered. "Here to pick up somethin' o' Master Turner's? I hear he's already hard at work!"

Ophelia smiled; she too heard the loud clanging of metal as Will worked in the forge. "Indeed he is, but oddly so, in my opinion. He **_should_** be getting ready."

The baker laughed and slammed a hand down on the table, his face red and his mood jovial. "That's right!" he recalled, wagging a finger her direction. "Today is the wedding!"

Though Ophelia still wore her smile, her gaze became a little sad. "You are correct, Joseph! Why else would I be dressed in such attire?"

"I didn't rightly notice, Miss Bennett!" answered Joseph the baker. "By this point, I've gotten used to seeing you in this type of apparel!"

While the second might have been true, Ophelia knew that his first comment was a lie. She had seen his eyes widen at her get-up when she'd arrived and known exactly what he was thinking: _How did such a peasant girl like herself become so lucky?_

She knew he remembered the days when she had been abandoned, left to starve on the street in filthy rags and stealing food where she could. It was only thanks to Will Turner and his foster father that she was alive.

Ophelia was brought back to reality when Joseph exclaimed, "I didn't mean to offend or anything—"

"No, no, not at all, Mister Baker," Ophelia reassured him. "I take no offense, not to worry."

As the baker stammered in relief, Ophelia grabbed the pastries and paid the man before waving farewell and exiting.

Despite dawn only having just arrived, the town was awake and lively. Denizens lined the streets, and Ophelia had to dodge many to avoid being bumped into. Many times, she also had to keep someone from stepping on her dress.

At last, however, the girl rounded the corner and arrived at the forge. She knew the place so well—since the age of twelve, Ophelia had been the Turner's apprentice. It was only because he had been looking for a friend that he met her; before long, they would be often found playing with the pigs or cows. She taught him how to snag the freshest, juiciest apple, and he, in return, taught her how to forge a sword or temper metal.

Seeing how quickly and how deeply their friendship ran and began, Will's foster father had taken her in and treated her like his own daughter. She, in turn, thought of him as her own father... but all things had to end, and Will's foster father died three years ago. Now she and Will were on their own.

When she stepped inside, called Ophelia in the deepest voice she could muster, "Pardon me, Master Turner, but I have a request!"

The hammer Will held stopped in midair. "And what would your request be, **_sir?_** " he replied facetiously.

Dropping her pretense, Ophelia laughed and said, "That you stop working and eat some breakfast."

Will chuckled and turned around, his smock already grimy with smoke and ash. Per regulations, there was a single streak of gray lining his cheek. "I suppose I could do that," he grinned, laying down the hammer and walking to Ophelia.

She held out a pastry as he approached. "Open."

He did; she laughed as he bit the pastry and some of the strawberry jam stained his shirt. As she giggled, he simply shrugged amiably. "Doesn't matter," he exclaimed, waving off the pink blotch on his white shirt. His brown eyes were cheerful as he added, "I won't be wearing it today!"

Ophelia smiled at his good mood and chastised him, "Speaking of dress, shouldn't you be preparing? This day only comes once in a man's life, you know." _And a woman's too. Maybe someday I'll experience it, even if it won't be the same._

"That it does, but I have all of daylight until the ceremony. You worry over me too much, Ophelia, whether it be battling pirates or appearing presentable for my wedding." With that, he shook his head, a light smile at the corner of his lips, and returned to the hammer.

"Oh, for goodness sake, put that hammer down," she commanded, hands on her hips. "You work too hard. Do you not believe you deserve a day off?"

"There you go again," laughed Will without looking at her. "You fret over me like a sister."

Though Ophelia's heart stung with the description, she took care to keep her voice light. He could never know of her affections for him lest she make him feel guilty. And after saving her life, this would be the poorest way to repay him. "You force me to, William Turner. You are a magnet for trouble."

Ophelia felt rather than saw him grin with his next comment. "Aye, I won't argue with you there." Then he resumed pounding the blacksmith hammer upon the sword he was crafting.

With a huff, she set down the basket of pastries and grabbed a hammer herself. "Well, if you insist on working, I might as well ease your workload."

"Whoa, there, not so fast," protested Will, seeing her raise the tool. She stopped in mid-swing and glanced at him questioningly.

"I thought we would always work in the forge together," she remarked mockingly.

Will shot her a look and forcibly took the hammer from her grip, smirking as he did. "I forbid you from working in my forge today," he declared. "Though we may almost always work together, today, you are already dressed; I will not have you soil the dress you worked so hard to make. You've spent two months on it. I won't see you ruin it after all your work."

Ophelia sighed, but did as he pleaded, if only because it was his wedding day. "Well, William, if you insist on being stubborn, I will go elsewhere so I might actually be useful."

"What happened to **_together?_** "

She only laughed, ignoring his banter. "Have the decorations for the reception been set up?"

"Not quite, though Governor Swann is attending to it. Although I wish you would stay here, in the forge, for a little while longer. I am not going to be here for another three weeks, and I will miss my best friend while I am gone."

The girl chuckled softly. "Perhaps, but you deserve the time off with your wife to-be."

Will shrugged. "Maybe… but perhaps while I am gone, you might give me the hope of attending **_your_** wedding someday soon?"

Ophelia laughed and shook her head. "I do not know about that…"

"Come on, Ophie," he crooned, setting down the hammer and placing a hand on her shoulder. Ophelia smiled at the old nickname. "You degrade yourself. You are beautiful and kind and intelligent. Any man would be lucky to have you as his wife."

"We shall see about that, Will," she sighed heavily. Ophelia was uncertain about if she would ever find a man she would love more than Will. The task was daunting at best—impossible at worst. "But I shall keep an open eye and heart in the hope of good news."

"Excellent. You are turning twenty-two within the next months… I hope to see you happy by that time."

 _Not likely,_ thought Ophelia, but she put aside that thought for the moment. "I hope so, too, Will. But for today, let us focus on **_you._** Now, I really must go help Elizabeth's father finish the decorations. I will see you later," she finished before Will could protest. If he pleaded with her to stay again, she knew she would be unable to decline him.

So she simply kissed his hand and walked out.

For the next six hours, Ophelia and Governor Swann completed the outdoor preparations. When they were finished, the small clearing overlooking the ocean was almost unrecognizable. They exchanged smiles and thanks for the other's help before spending the rest of the day preparing for the ceremony.

Just before sunset, Ophelia thought to check on Will. When she reached his room, she knocked and asked, "Will? Are you in there?"

The door was answered by a short man wearing a white powdered wig. "Good evening, miss," he said in a cold, formal tone. "Are you looking for Mr. Turner?"

"I am," she confirmed. "Do you know where he is?"

Just then, Will was brought from outside the room. Shackles were on his wrist, and two men surrounded him.

Ophelia gasped. "What is the meaning of this?"

"That is none of your concern, miss," said the same man with the hard voice. "If you care for elaboration, feel free to follow us."

Knowing that if she were to speak again, she might get herself or Will into trouble, Ophelia kept silent and followed the men as they trudged out to the place where she and Governor Swann had just finished decorating.

Elizabeth was there, kneeling over fallen teacups. When she saw who stood behind her, however, she dropped the bouquet of flowers she was holding and rushed back to Will.

"Will!" she gasped, fear in her brown eyes. "Why is this happening?"

"I don't know," replied Will softly. He looked over her and her elegant dress and smiled. "You look beautiful."

Elizabeth smiled, though it was hesitant. "I think it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."

Ophelia moved forward and forced herself to put a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. Though Elizabeth was not Ophelia's favorite person, she swore to always be kind and considerate towards her, as she **_was_** her best friend's fiancée. "Do not worry, Elizabeth. I am sure this gentleman shall explain what is happening."

Said gentlemen smirked and gave Ophelia a once-over, though he was silent.

Just then, the Governor's voice rang out. "Make way, let me through!" Seeing the man in charge, Governor Swann spat out, "How dare you! Stand your men down at once! Do you hear me?!"

The man turned to face Governor Swann, the cold formality still lacing his eyes and tone. "Governor Weatherby Swann, it's been too long."

"Cutler Beckett?"

"It's Lord now, actually," corrected Lord Beckett coolly.

"Lord or not, you have no reason and no authority to arrest this man," declared Governor Swann.

"In fact, I do," contested Lord Beckett. "Miss, would you come here, please?"

Ophelia was startled to realize that he had summoned **_her_** —knowing that it could be dangerous to disobey, she walked towards him. Once she stood next to him, he handed her a stack of yellow parchment papers. "Please hold these for me. What is your name?"

She glanced at Will, who looked irritated and, frankly, rather murderous. Then, turning back to Lord Beckett, she responded, "Ophelia Bennett."

"Ophelia Bennett," repeated Lord Beckett, his gray eyes scanning through the numerous documents she held. "I see. A-ha. Here it is. The warrant for the arrest of one William Turner."

With these words, Lord Beckett held out the warrant for the Governor to take. And he did, and he perused it before declaring faintly, "This warrant is for the arrest of Elizabeth Swann!"

"Is it? That's annoying, my mistake. Arrest her."

Some of the soldiers grabbed Elizabeth as she gasped, "On what charges?!"

Ignoring her, exclaimed Lord Beckett, "A-ha! **_Here_** is the one for William Turner. And I have another for a Mister James Norrington! Is he present?"

"As I understand it, he has resigned his commission and gone missing," explained Ophelia, wondering what this man could possibly want to arrest the three people for. "He has not been seen around Port Royal for months."

Lord Beckett glanced at her again, then nodded and opened his mouth to say something—but he was interrupted by Elizabeth, who exclaimed, "Lord Beckett! We are under the jurisdiction of the King's Governor of Port Royal, and you will tell us what we are charged with."

Governor Swann looked down at the warrant and read aloud, "The charge is 'conspiring to set free a man convicted of crimes against the Crown and Empire and condemned to death, for which the punishment…'"

"For which the punishment, regrettably, is also death," finished Lord Beckett, for the Governor had trailed off in horror. He stepped towards Will and added, "Perhaps you remember a certain pirate named Jack Sparrow."

"Captain!" snarled both Elizabeth and Will at the same time.

Ophelia put a hand to her head. Will might have at least **_tried_** to fake innocence.

"Captain. Jack Sparrow," corrected Elizabeth.

Lord Beckett appeared amused. "Captain Jack Sparrow… Yes, I thought you might." He walked back to Ophelia, who was still holding his papers. He carefully took them from her and said, "Thank you, Miss Bennett."

She nodded, but was silent.

After a moment of quiet, Lord Beckett waved Will forth. "Come, Master Turner. There are a few things I have to discuss with you. Miss Swann will go to the cells for now—and Miss Bennett, please wait for me to discuss matters with **_you_** as well."

Ophelia started and exchanged a worried glance with Will. He seemed quite worried too, though most likely the worry was reserved for Elizabeth. Like always, Ophelia felt the slightest pang of jealousy… but like always, she pushed it aside and vowed not to dwell on it.

As it was, she had to focus on what would be discussed with the Lord Beckett, for surely whatever it was would not be good news.


	3. Chapter 2

"Miss Bennett, would you come inside, please?"

As she was summoned, Ophelia took a deep breath and entered the room. She wondered what someone like Lord Beckett could **_possibly_** want with a simple peasant girl like herself—but she swallowed her anxiety as she stepped inside his elegant office.

On the wall, a cartographer was painting intricate details of some islands in the Pacific Ocean. Ophelia watched fascinatedly for a moment before directing her attention to Lord Beckett, who was, in turn, watching **_her._**

"Miss Bennett," he said, standing tall. He was barely taller than she, but the air with which the man held himself made him seem taller. "I have just had an interesting discussion with Master Turner. Perhaps you would like to hear it?"

"If it is my place to do so, Lord Beckett," she replied, knowing quite well that one wrong word could cost Will his life.

He seemed amused at her meek nature and moved forward. "I offered him the freedom of his fiancée, Elizabeth Swann, if he were to bring me back an item of Jack Sparrow's. Have you met the pirate before?"

Ophelia shook her head. "I have not. I remained here, in Port Royal, when the band of pirates attacked us." Despite the truth of her second sentence, the first was a bit of a lie, seeing as Ophelia had bashed Jack Sparrow in the head with a stool once when he had intruded into the forge.

Lord Beckett nodded. "I see. That is good for you, it would seem. At any rate, I have requested that Master Turner fetch me a personal item of the pirate's—a compass. It is small and invaluable, and will ensure Miss Swann's release. When I send Master Turner to Jack Sparrow, he will have papers regarding a full pardon to give to him, so long as he swears compliance to the Eastern India Company."

"Somehow, I do not believe the pirate Jack Sparrow will be much appeased with those letters," mused Ophelia, glancing at the mural of the map again. "He is a pirate for a reason."

"Perhaps you are right. But you have missed my point."

"Your point, sir?"

"I have guaranteed Elizabeth Swann her freedom in exchange for the compass. I am sending Master Turner letters of full pardon for Jack Sparrow. I have **_not,_** however, promised Master Turner himself anything regarding his **_own_** freedom."

Hearing this, Ophelia blanched. If Will were to die, she would not know what to do with herself.

Knowing that she was expected to respond, she swallowed and asked, "And I suppose you would like something from me to guarantee his freedom? What can a simple girl such as myself give you, Lord Beckett?"

Instead of answering immediately, the Lord Beckett gazed over the room. Seeing that the cartographer had finished his last few strokes on the map, he dismissed the man—the door closed with a loud _THUMP,_ which mirrored Ophelia's heartbeat. She and Lord Beckett were now alone.

After another moment of silence, the man said, "A simple girl like yourself is precisely what I would like. You are a woman of great beauty, Miss Bennett, and one of good manner and, I believe, good rearing. I suspect you are not promised to any man yet; I would like to change that fact."

Ophelia blinked, less than eager to inform him that she had been on the streets for three years until Will and his foster father took her in. As it was, she said to clarifiy, "You wish for me to marry you? In exchange for Will's freedom?"

"I am not blind. I see that you care for him deeply," said the Lord Beckett, a light smirk upon his lips. "That is most unfortunate for you, I am afraid. But it might also be most opportune. If you accept my offer, you may grow to discover that there shall be advantages in your status and lifestyle because of our marriage. One day, you might grow to truly love me, and I you. You shall also see that there are others in the world who would treat you better than any blacksmith ever could."

She restrained from sighing. Will was much more than a blacksmith. "How could I be certain that you will spare him?"

"Do you not trust me?"

"It is not you whom I do not trust, but the law."

Lord Beckett's smirk transformed into a chuckle. "I suppose that is fair enough, Miss Bennett. I will request for another official pardon for Master Turner, if it will appease you."

This comforted her more than Ophelia believed it would, although she was still a bit reluctant to accept the offer of the Lord Beckett's hand in marriage. Of course she would accept—for Will, so he would live and be happy with Elizabeth—but she was uncertain about if she would ever find happiness herself.

Then again, she had doubted she would find happiness ever since he told her that he and Elizabeth would marry.

And so she replied, "It would comfort me greatly, and banish whatever doubt would remain in my mind about accepting your generous offer."

Her words made the man smile again. "Then I shall ascertain the document," he reassured her. He walked towards her and brushed a lock of her deeply brown hair behind her ear; Ophelia was not sure what to think about the gesture. Perhaps it was a good omen?

That thought immediately vanished when Lord Beckett kissed her. She was shocked at the sudden gesture, and frankly, underwhelmed, especially for a first kiss. The move felt cold and insignificant, supporting her dreary thought that it all meant nothing.

Lord Beckett, however, did not seem as disappointed as she. He smiled—though Ophelia felt that that too was taciturn—and declared, "This has been a very fruitful chat, Miss Bennett."

Ophelia nodded to agree—but then, she realized something. She would not be able to bear it if Will went away again, and she was left at Port Royal with no idea if he was safe. She would sooner die than endure that torture again.

She had to say something.

"Lord Beckett, if I may…"

He nodded and waved a hand to let her know it was allowed.

Taking a deep breath, Ophelia interjected, "In order to be certain that Will shall live a happy life, I would like to accompany him to locate Jack Sparrow and be certain his mission succeeds. If he is to live, I would like him to live happily—and the only way he shall do that is if he marries Elizabeth. This means he must not fail. I would like to oversee that he does not."

The Lord Beckett's eyes widened somewhat at her request. "Do you realize the danger this quest might hold? If the pirate Jack Sparrow were to—to **_sully_** you or anything of the sort—"

"Will would never let anything happen to me," she promised. "He sees me as family, and is more than capable of protecting me." Ophelia did **_not_** add that she could perfectly well defend herself, thanks to years upon years of training, in case he personally believed that it was a blemish on her femininity. She would not risk Will's safety **_now,_** now that her mind was made up. "I can promise you, no man will lay a hand on me whilst I am gone. Would you be able to grant me this as a wedding gift?"

The innocence that Ophelia projected into her tone was probably what made the Lord Beckett sigh and finally concede. "Very well, Miss Bennett. If it shall make you happy, I will allow it."

Now it was she who smiled. "Thank you, Lord Beckett. You are most kind. I look forward to my return."

This last was true only in the aspect that it meant Will would be happy, and would remain happy for the rest of his life. She cared more about his happiness than her own; she had felt that way for years now.

"One last thing, Miss Bennett," announced Lord Beckett's voice as she turned away. Ophelia moved back to face him as he walked back to her. He held something small in his palm, but she could not yet see what.

With great care, he gently grabbed her left hand—

"No, not that one," she gasped, unable to help herself. "Please, use my other hand."

Lord Beckett raised an eyebrow. "Why not the left, Miss Bennett?"

Seeing that now, she had to explain herself, Ophelia sighed and murmured, "There is a scar there… a jagged black line over the back of my hand. It has been there since I was an infant, and I know not how I got it. I know it is no birthmark, but I worry that it shall… repulse you."

"Nonsense," replied Lord Beckett, carefully removing the glove on her hand. He looked at the scar for a moment—it ran from one side of Ophelia's hand to another, and was as black as ever. It was like a darkened lightning bolt—she sighed seeing it. She always attempted to cover it up, unless she was in the forge with Will, and Will alone.

But Lord Beckett somehow did not seem perturbed by the mark, which surprised Ophelia. Most men lunged back… One even had the audacity to call her a witch once. But this man did not seem to mind as he slipped a gold ring onto her finger. "This is for you to wear and remember."

That was all he said, but the connotation was perfectly clear.

 _You hold William Turner's life in your hands. This is your reminder._

As it was, Ophelia did not need any reminder. She had no intention of breaking her promise. "It is beautiful. Thank you."

"It is very fair; quite like you," murmured the Lord Beckett, glancing at the ground. This was the first glimpse of vulnerability that Ophelia had seen from him yet.

Carefully, she slipped her glove back on before smiling, curtsying, and declaring, "Farewell, Lord Beckett. I shall see you in a few months' time, with luck."

Without any further delay, the girl exited the room and left for the forge to intercept Will before he could leave without her.

* * *

Ophelia barely managed to catch Will as he ran out of the jail, undoubtedly coming out of his last talk with Elizabeth.

"Will!" she cried, launching a hand on his arm.

He gasped and whirled around before sighing in relief. "Ophelia, you startled me. Are you all right? What did Lord Beckett want?"

"He wanted to tell me what he told you," she said, though she kept most of the conversation hidden from him for now. She knew that if she told Will about her engagement, he would demand that she cancel the deal right away. She would need to tell him later on, when there was absolutely nothing he could do about her decision. "And he wanted for me to go with you on your journey, in case Jack Sparrow gets any ideas."

Will smiled uneasily. "Do you doubt me?"

"No, not at all."

"Then stay here."

"I cannot. These were Lord Beckett's orders. You might get into trouble if I remain—Elizabeth might get in trouble. Besides, I **_want_** to go. I would like to make sure you succeed, that you return here in one piece. Do not ask me to remain in the forge for another season while you sail around the world, facing rogue pirates and evil spirits on the high seas. I could not bear it."

Seeing that he was still indecisive, Ophelia gently put a hand on his shoulder. "Together this time. Remember? You promised me."

Will sighed and stared into her chocolate brown eyes. Seeing the pleading within them, he murmured, "Ophelia… It will be dangerous. The ocean can be tolerable at best, and I fear Captain Jack shall be less so. You are a beautiful woman, Ophelia, but on that ship, I can only protect you so much."

Ophelia restrained laughter and crossed her arms. She was not as beautiful as Will might declare—certainly not as lovely as Elizabeth, anyway. Her eyes were an entrancing dark russet, that was true, and her hair was dark and wavy, but her lips were thin, and her nose small. But she cared not about whatever her physical appearance lacked; Will thought her lovely.

And so she retorted, "Captain Jack will not be a worry of mine. You have taught me how to wield a sword, or have you forgotten? And I **_know_** this quest shall be dangerous. Why do you think I am coming? I am coming to protect **_you_**."

"But—you are still wearing your dress for the ceremony—and you have never been sailing before, what if you get seasick?"

"If seasickness is the best argument you have in your defense, Will Turner, you are going to lose this battle," insisted Ophelia, trying not to laugh. "I am coming with you. And I shall be fine."

He stared at her for another moment before raising his hands in surrender. "Very well, it seems you have made up your mind. Come with me, if you like, Ophelia, but do not say I did not warn you about the dangers of the ocean and the pirates."

She giggled at his exasperation and retorted, "If anything, I look forward to it."

Will looked at her with suppressed amusement before putting a hand gently on her shoulder and announcing, "Then we have no time to waste. Hopefully we can locate Jack rather quickly—he is, after all, a famous pirate."

Ophelia grinned and quickly trailed after him as they headed to the port.


	4. Chapter 3

When Will and Ophelia arrived at the port, they began to ask around for any rumor of Captain Jack Sparrow. While everyone seemed to know who he was, most of the sailors didn't know **_where._**

One elderly man sharpening a knife told them, "Captain Jack Sparrow? Owes me four doubloons! Heard he was dead."

That was the closest they got to hearing about Jack—while Ophelia was disheartened at the news, Will reassured her. "You don't know Jack, Ophelia, but I do. And he is certainly not dead."

He seemed confident enough for the both of them as they proceeded to ask the remaining men. Luckily, another one seemed to have heard a more helpful rumor. "Singapore, that's what I heard! Drunk, with a smile on his face. Sure as the tide, Jack Sparrow turned up in Singapore."

Knowing that this was the best they would get, Will and Ophelia managed to arrange passage on a man's ship that was headed for Singapore. They left that day; thus began Ophelia's first venture on the ocean.

Will's fears were all to rot—Ophelia **_loved_** the ocean. She enjoyed every rock and creak of the ship, the wind when it blew and tossed her dark hair everywhere, the dialect of the sailors and the tight-knit friendship they all seemed to have. She was so optimistic, the crew began to adore her—they provided her with good food, good company, and rum, though she did not take any of the drink.

She would constantly practice swordplay with Will upon the deck of the ship, and he would laugh whenever the wind would toss her hair in her face, thus hindering her performance. The crew members who could also wield a sword challenged her playfully as well, though she beat them all save the Captain, who had been fencing all his life.

Much too soon, the ship arrived in Singapore. While it had been two weeks, they had been very fun. As it was, Will and Ophelia headed to a tavern, as Will believed it was the most "Jack" place in the city.

They came across two bar maidens there, and when they heard Will and Ophelia were looking for Jack, the first one exclaimed with a sickly sweet smile, "Jack Sparrow!"

"Haven't seen him in a month," interjected the second.

The first walked forward and leered, "When you find him, will you give him a message?"

And she brutally slapped Will across the face, which prompted Ophelia to snarl and put her sword at the wench's neck. "Go back to your customers," she spat, a fire in her dark eyes. "They have more need of you than we do. Go on, before I decide to trim your hair!"

The women glared at her disdainfully, but left as she requested.

As soon as they were gone, Ophelia sheathed her sword and gazed at Will's face. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Do not worry, I've had worse."

But there was a red mark on his cheek, and Ophelia could have torn out the woman's throat in that moment.

Seeing the look on her face, said Will before she could do anything rash, "Let's try and get information somewhere else. Perhaps the port."

Ophelia had no better idea of what to do, so she nodded and followed him.

Down at the port, more men seemed to have an idea of where Jack was. Apparently he **_had_** been in Singapore about a month or two ago, but he left abruptly without any trace. No one had heard news of his death or capture by the East India Company, but they hadn't heard anything good of him, either.

At last, they came across a dark-skinned man who was crafting something out of hay. He heard they were looking for Jack and said, "Can't say about Jack Sparrow, but there's an island just south of the straits where I trade spices for delicious long pork." He trailed off for a moment as if daydreaming about the meat, and then resumed. "Cannot say about Jack, but you'll find a ship there. A ship with black sails."

"That's it," exclaimed Will. "That's the _Black Pearl._ Can you take us there?"

The man nodded. "My ship leaves tomorrow morning to head back to the island. Be here at daybreak, and we shall drop you off there."

Will nodded eagerly and declared, "We'll be here."

The conversation over, he and Ophelia walked off to find someplace to sleep for the night. They came across an inn close to the port and paid for one night's stay—Ophelia received a few looks as she passed by, as unfortunately she hadn't been able to change since they left Port Royal.

Once upstairs, Will shut the door and groaned.

Believing to know what he was thinking, Ophelia placed a hand on his shoulder. "He can't be too far away now."

But Will just shook his head and offered her a hesitant smile. "That wasn't what I was thinking about."

"Then what is it?"

"The men downstairs—I did not like how they looked at you. This place is less than respectable."

Ophelia, however, merely laughed. "I am not a piece of china, Will. I can fight. Or have you forgotten again?" This last was said with an amused expression on her face.

Will shot her a look, but did not answer—which, ironically, was all the answer that Ophelia needed. With an affectionate laugh, she put a hand on his shoulder and then turned toward the bed for a good night's sleep.

* * *

The following morning, they were aboard the trader's ship. Ophelia was delighted to have returned to the ocean—although the sleeping arrangements were less than ideal, seeing as she'd never been accustomed to a cot before, she was still very happy. The sailors on this ship were quite friendly as well, although most of them spoke French and limited English.

The only real drawback to the ship was that there were no extra clothes, so Ophelia was still stuck wearing her formal dress. But that was a minor drawback to her happiness.

Her days were spent gazing over the ocean, often helping maintain cleanliness of the deck and doing basic work for the running of the ship. She began to learn the dialect of the sailors from Will—he taught her what "port" and "starboard" meant, as well as the areas of the ship. Ophelia's vocabulary soon expanded to include bow, cargo hold, crow's nest, and other things of that nature. And of course, he would continue to practice swordplay with her.

The journey to the island was not very long. It was only four days until Will saw the _Black Pearl_ out of a telescope. He handed it to Ophelia for her to see; she was not overwhelmed. It was beached, and desolate-looking.

"What could Jack Sparrow want from this island?" she wondered aloud.

Will had no answer.

The man who arranged passage came up to them then and announced, "My brother will take you ashore. Climb into the longboat, and he shall bring you as far as he can."

With swift thanks, Will and Ophelia did as they were told. Before five more minutes had passed, they were rowing toward the beach. But about fifty feet out, the man stopped rowing.

Will looked at him quizzically. "What's the matter, the beach is right there."

He began speaking in French, effectively confusing Will—Ophelia, however, understand bits and pieces of the dialect.

"He… says that it is dangerous," she translated. "The island, I mean. And something about high waves…"

"Ah," sighed Will. "He cannot bring us any closer, or else the longboat will tip over and he shall probably lose the oars. I guess there's nothing else for it. We'll have to swim."

Ophelia refrained from sighing—she had never been fortunate enough to receive a change of clothes, so her dress was probably going to end up soaked and tattered. So much for not damaging it.

But she knew that she would have plenty of other dresses once she returned, seeing as she was engaged to the Lord Beckett now…

With this somewhat depressing thought, Ophelia thanked the man and leapt into the ocean after Will, who was already halfway to the shore.

Despite her joy of the ocean while sailing, she did not much like swimming. It was very hard to keep her head above the salt water while the weight of her dress dragged her down—more than once, some water splashed into her mouth and eyes, making Ophelia have to splutter and rub her eyes.

At last, however, she made it. Will held out a hand to help her up, and Ophelia gazed back at the trader ship. It was already beyond any sort of reach—the longboat they'd arrived in was no longer visible.

Knowing that there would be no way to get off the island except via the _Black Pearl,_ Ophelia joined Will as he called out, "Jack! Jack Sparrow!"

There was silence in reply.

Will, not to be deterred, shouted, "Marty! Cotton!" But still there was silence, and his voice lowered to a somewhat defeated, "Anybody?"

He was still for a moment, as if daring, for the first time, to believe that Jack was dead. Seeing that he was becoming disheartened, Ophelia tripped over her sopping dress to put a hand on his arm. "Do not worry, Will. They may just be on the island somewhere instead of on the ship."

Will perked up again and gave her a grateful smile. "You must be right," he sighed, placing his hand on hers for a split second before moving off toward the trees. "Come on… they should be close by."  
Ophelia was not so sure, but she followed him anyway.

They entered the foliage—Will pointed at the ground. "Look," he murmured. "Footprints. They've been here…"

Just then, there was the fluttering of wings, and a colorful parrot landed on a twig close to the two. Will seemed glad to see the bird as he proclaimed, "Ah, a familiar face!"

The parrot squawked. "Don't eat me!"

Will looked bemused as he stared at the parrot. "I'm not going to eat you."

"Don't eat me!"

Ophelia stared at the creature for a moment as it fluttered off through the trees again. She blinked once and figured it must be a very intelligent bird—she remembered what the man had said about the island being dangerous.

"Will—Will, be very careful. I do not like this place… The man said it was dangerous for a reason… What are you doing?" This last was because Ophelia had just turned to see Will peering at a pouch that was hanging from a branch.

He held it out for her to see. There was a small wire attached to it. "It's Gibbs's," he said simply, as if this was supposed to make perfect sense.

With a sigh, asked Ophelia, "And who is Gibbs?"

"Jack's first mate," replied Will, tracing the cord until it ended. Suddenly, it cut off, leading nowhere.

But Ophelia noticed something he didn't.

"Will, get back!" she screeched.

At the same time, a native of the island screamed horrifically and leapt out at him. Startled, Will lunged back, into a snare that launched him into the air. Seeing him dangling there, Ophelia cried out and moved forward to cut the rope—but she was stopped by a few other natives who had surged forward and surrounded her. They disarmed her and wrenched her hands behind her back, tying her wrists with a rope.

Ophelia cried out angrily. "Hey! Release me!"

Will's eyes widened. "No! Ophelia!" he cried, swinging his sword around in a futile attempt to hold off the natives. "Come on!" he challenged despite the fact that he was upside down. "Who wants it? I can do this all day!"

The natives looked among each other before one blew a dart into Will's neck. He immediately went limp, unconscious.

Ophelia screamed. "Will!"

The natives looked at her and started murmuring to each other. Then they cut Will down and started tying his legs and hands to a pole, and they prodded Ophelia's back with the spears they all held. It was obvious they wanted to get her walking.

All throughout the jungle trek, Ophelia kept a close eye on Will. She wanted to make sure these savages weren't going to hurt him… He hadn't woken up yet, and she was starting to worry.

It took a half-hour, but they started to come upon the encampment that the natives lived at. There were perhaps a hundred gathered there, stomping on the ground and raising their spears to the sky. Their skin was painted dark colors, and their eyes gleamed maliciously. The natives were yodeling and shrieking and dancing—Ophelia had no idea how she'd be able to free Will and escape.

The natives trudged Ophelia up toward a man who was sitting on what looked like a throne. They made her stand in front of the man, who didn't look like he belonged. Besides the absurd face paint, his manner of dress and hairstyle labeled him as a pirate.

"Jack?" asked a groggy voice.

Ophelia gulped and whirled around—Will was awake. She was relieved to see his eyes open, but at the same time, was worried about what he would do in his current situation.

"Jack Sparrow!" gasped Will, a wide smile on his face. He didn't seem bothered by the fact that he was hanging upside-down by a pole. "I can honestly say I'm glad to see you!"

Ophelia turned back to the man sitting on the throne. **_This_** was Captain Jack Sparrow? Why was he on this island and not on the sea?

Jack Sparrow rose from his chair and walked toward Will blankly before merely poking his shoulder.

Will looked confused. "Jack, it's me! Will Turner!"

The pirate showed no sign of recognition. Instead, he began talking in the natives' language. He then looked at Ophelia, and his eyebrows raised, his gaze slowly moving along her face, then to her body and soaking dress, then back up to her face. Ophelia was not sure what to think about it.

"Tell them to let me down!" exclaimed Will.

Jack Sparrow spoke in more of the foreign dialect.

Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere, Will decided to get directly to the point. "Jack, the compass. That's all I need. Elizabeth is in danger—we were arrested for trying to help **_you!_** She faces the gallows!"

Ophelia noticed that the pirate's eyes widened… Based on the look that flashed through his gaze, she knew then that he wasn't being cruel or apathetic. He was trying to be discreet.

Her suspicions seemed all but solidified as he began talking to the native in charge of Will's capture. He was very extravagant, and used his hands quite a lot while he talked. Ophelia noted that Captain Sparrow seemed like a man who was used to having control of situations. He seemed eccentric, but he also had an air of easiness and wit about him. She recalled all the stories she'd heard about this man and could tell, merely from observing him, that many of them were true.

"Savvy?" the pirate then asked at the end of his spiel.

The native looked at him, then raised his spear and shouted something. The rest of the tribe repeated it, and they began to spirit Will away. Captain Jack whispered something to Will: "Save me."

Ophelia gasped as Will was transported out of sight. "No! Captain Jack—what will they do to him? Stop them, please!"

Jack Sparrow looked at her and whispered, "Not the time, lassie. We've got to get out of here."

"Yes, I've established that much for myself," grumbled Ophelia, gazing at the Captain. "Wait—why wasn't **_I_** brought away?"

As if on cue, a native tromped up to Jack and pointed his spear at Ophelia; another animated discussion began. Suddenly, Jack leaped back to Ophelia and snaked an arm around her waist, yanking her close to him.

Ophelia tensed, but based on the situation, she figured that to resist would be a poor idea. So she clenched her teeth and looked between the pirate and the native, trying to deduce what they were saying.

Finally, the native seemed appeased; he retreated to what looked like a fire pit that his kin were all dancing around.

Once he was gone, Jack Sparrow sighed and released her. "Sorry about that, love," he said with a simper on his face. "Finally managed to convince those savages that you and I can speak a divine language. They shouldn't be bothering us about not using their gaggle."

Ophelia cleared her throat and took a casual step away from the pirate. Her action, however, only seemed to amuse him. She tried to resist flushing in embarrassment as he watched her try to think of a response. At last, she settled with, "I see. It must've taken ages to learn how to communicate with them so well. How long **_did_** it take?"

"It only took me twelve minutes, give or take a minute or two," he replied condescendingly.

Ophelia sighed, exasperated by his flippant behavior, but at the same time impressed by his intelligence. Even so, she only asked, "What is going on, Jack? Why are you here? Where is your crew?"

"I am here because we needed to find land for personal reasons," replied Jack, lifting his chin in a clear manner that he would say no more on the subject. "My crew is being held captive somewhere. William Turner will be taken there to them. Don't worry, he won't be eaten yet."

"Yet?!" squeaked Ophelia.

Jack, however, ignored her. "Now, who are **_you?_** You're not Elizabeth. She's much more… piratey… than you are."

She raised an eyebrow, not insulted by not being considered pirate material. "I am Ophelia Bennett, and I came with Will to make sure he found you and retrieved what he needs to save Elizabeth's life."

"Well, isn't that nice. But until we get off this island, you are not Olivia what's-her-face. You will need to pretend to be my wife."

"Your… wife?"

"They would've eaten you otherwise, but now they think you're a goddess. So you're welcome," he added with an extravagant arm flourish. "As it is, they're going to eat **_me_** soon, so if you have an escape plan, now is the time to relay it."

Ophelia gaped. "But you're Captain Jack Sparrow!"

"So you've heard of me! Excellent!"

"If **_you_** have no plan, how can you expect **_me_** to have one?"

"Good point… I guess we'll figure it out, won't we, lassie?"

Before Ophelia could retort, she was interrupted by pounding drums and stomping feet. Hearing this, Jack Sparrow blanched and said, "Although we should probably do it quickly. The moment these barbarians finish their voodoo, I'm going to be their entrée, savvy?"


	5. Chapter 4

Jack Sparrow's hope was miserably misplaced. Ophelia had absolutely no other idea about what to do except fight, as the cannibals had not taken her sword. But there were a hundred of them against only her and Jack.

Obviously, that wouldn't work.

The two tried to brainstorm a way to get out, and they could only come up with one thing that they agreed on: run. They would need to run, there would be no aggression against a group this size.

As soon as this was established, Jack winked at Ophelia and declared, "Get ready, lassie." Then he sauntered up to the natives who were stacking logs on the fire pit and shouted, "No, no! More wood! Big fire! I am Chief! Want big fire!"

Despite not using their dialect, the natives seemed to understand Jack's command. They rushed to the side to grab more logs—before they could turn back to him, Jack seized Ophelia's arm and the two of them started sprinting as far and fast as they could **_away_** from the encampment.

Once the drums were out of earshot, Ophelia laughed. "Who knew that plan would be so simple?" she remarked, almost to herself.

Jack smirked and replied, "Indubitably, Olivia, it was not as hard as we predicted."

Ophelia sighed. "My name is **_Ophelia,_** Captain Jack, not Olivia."

"My apologies, lassie!" exclaimed Jack, looking back at her for a split second. But that split second almost made him topple over a cliff—it was only because Ophelia cried out, "Jack!" and yanked him backward that he avoided toppling into the chasm.

As it was, Jack landed on Ophelia, his hand halfway between her breast and her waist. She glared at him, though he grinned complacently and declared, "Perhaps we can try this again in my ship."

"No, thank you," rejected the girl, abruptly pushing him off of her. She stared into the abyss and sighed. "We'll need to find another way around."

"Nonsense!" At this exclamation, Jack held up a long bamboo shoot that could be used as a pole. "Here's what we need! Although… we might need some rope… Follow me, love!" With an extravagant wave of his hand, he held open the flap of a teepee and gestured her inside.

The first thing Ophelia noticed were the weapons hanging from the ceiling. Blood stained them. Knowing that the natives were cannibals, she felt her face blanch. As she stared at the horrid cutlery, however, Jack was rummaging through the teepee until, with a happy exclamation, he located a length of rope. Something else caught his eye, and he picked it up.

It was a paprika shaker with the words _East India Trading Company_ stamped on the base.

Ophelia restrained a sigh. She could not forget that she was now promised to the leader of said company…

She of course did not say this aloud as she and Jack walked back outside the teepee—and instantly stopped. "Bugger," muttered Jack.

The natives were there, waiting for them. She and Jack had lingered too long. Terrified, Ophelia glanced at Jack to see if he had a plan. The pirate, however, just dropped the rope slung across his shoulder, opened the paprika can, and sprinkled the spice on his underarms.

"A little seasoning, eh?" he inquired, sniffing the air as if he suddenly had a brand new aroma.

The cannibals were unimpressed. They used their spears to direct both of them back to the encampment, where they immediately tied Jack to a pole and started to lift him over the unlit kindling. They allowed Ophelia to remain free—for now—but at least six sharp spears were pointed her direction, and twice as many eyes.

"Good work," sighed Jack as he was lifted on a spit. He glanced at Ophelia. "I don't suppose you have any miracles in store for me, love?"

"I'll… work on it," she mumbled.

"Oh great. I feel loads better."

Ophelia almost cracked a smile at that, but she did not, if only because of the dire situation they were in. She simply watched as Jack struggled against his bonds, and as the natives began pounding the drums again, screeching and dancing around like they had been when she first arrived.

Just then, one of the indigenous men ran in front of Jack and raised a lit torch, shouting something.

The people repeated it, and he began to lower the torch—

But a boy ran into the crowd and began screaming and pointing further into the encampment. Ophelia had no idea what he was saying, but obviously Jack did, because when the tribe looked to him for his command—despite being tied up and prepped for roasting—he exclaimed, "Well, go on, go get them!"

Hearing this, the natives all shrieked with glee and rushed off to where the boy had been pointing. The man with the torch dropped it, and it lit the fire underneath Jack.

Since they were now alone, Ophelia gasped and rushed to cut the ropes loose with her sword. Once she succeeded, Jack landed atop the fire, smothering and extinguishing it.

"Thanks, lassie," he grunted.

"Don't thank me yet. We have a ways to go," she replied. "Now, up! I'm fairly certain those savages are heading for Will and your crew, which means they shall be arriving at the _Pearl_ soon. Let's go before we miss them!"

"Bossy!" exclaimed Jack, but he followed her all the same.

Within the next five minutes, they were back at the chasm they had been recaptured at. She stared down into the abyss and swallowed uneasily. "Do you know where we might get more rope?" she questioned.

Jack looked disheartened for a spare second—but then a light flickered on in his eyes. "Do you trust me, lassie?"

"Not really, no."

He clucked his tongue. "How unfortunate. Well, if you won't trust me, perhaps you will forgive me."

And with that, the pirate picked Ophelia up in his arms and, with all his strength, launched her over the chasm.

Ophelia screamed at the sudden gesture—but she landed safely on the other side. She was utterly shocked by how well that worked; after registering that she was safe, she whirled around to monitor Jack's progress.

Before she could find him, however, he was using one of the bamboo shoots like a launching pole to cross the chasm. She stared as he ran and struck the pole in the ground… Captain Jack then flew through the air and landed on his feet next to her.

He looked mightily pleased with himself. "How about **_that,_** eh?" he chuckled, and he held out a hand to help Ophelia up.

Gratefully, she took it, still astonished by what she had seen. Will had failed to tell her how skilled this pirate was; she had to admit that she was impressed, although she **_was_** a bit irritated by the fact that the pirate had just thrown her over a cliff.

As it was, there was no time to argue about his action. They still needed to reach the _Pearl_ before the rest of the crew cast off without them.

Through the jungle they ran, raging past trees and through bushes. The closer they got to the ship, however, the closer the yells and ululates of the natives became—just as they reached the beach, the cannibals emerged from the trees, about thirty feet behind Ophelia and Jack.

"Jack!" she exclaimed breathlessly, picking up her skirts and running as fast as she possibly could.

"I see them!" he shouted back. "Almost there, love!"

Luckily, he was right. When they turned the corner of the island, Ophelia could see the _Pearl_ still sitting on the beach… although as they ran, and as she watched, the ship steadily began making its way toward the water.

Captain Jack seemed to notice this too. With as much volume as he could muster, he screamed, "OI!" in a desperate effort to stop the ship.

" ** _Will!_** " screamed Ophelia, hoping he was nearby.

" ** _Ophelia!_** " she heard in response—she exhaled, a great and relieved smile on her face. Will had made it. He was okay. She didn't realize how worried she had been about him until she felt tears spiking her eyes.

"AAARRGGGHH!" bellowed Jack, putting on a final burst of speed. Ophelia struggled to match his pace, as her dress was slowing her and she was exhausted… but at the same time, the adrenaline rush was making her feel more alive than she had ever felt before.

"Go on, lassie, go!" commanded Jack, and without waiting for another command, Ophelia barreled into the shallow water and lunged towards the rope on the side of the ship. She steadily climbed it and looked up to see Will extending a hand towards her.

"Come on, Ophelia!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with worry.

She reached up and grasped his hand—he then hoisted her onto the deck of the ship as if she were a sack of flour.

He put her down gently and gazed over her frantically. "Are you alright?" he demanded. "Are you okay? They didn't hurt you?"

"Relax, Will," she soothed. She grabbed his hands and forced them back down to his sides. "I am fine. Captain Sparrow helped me escape." Seeing his surprise, she giggled and exclaimed, "You failed to tell me of his cunning, Will, as well as his eccentricity."

That made him laugh. "Aye, perhaps I did. But now you know."

Before Ophelia could reply, she heard the Captain's voice shouting from the side of the ship—she moved to see what he was doing. He was clinging to the rope, as the ship was now too far into the water for the cannibals to reach them. "Alas, my children!" he shouted to the natives, waving a hand in farewell. "This is the day you shall always remember as the day you almost—"

He was cut off by a giant wave that splashed into his back. Seeing the exasperation on Jack's face, Ophelia bit her fist to restrain a fit of laughter.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," grumbled Jack, and then he started climbing the rope again.

Once he was onboard, a man whom Ophelia could only presume was Jack's first mate asked him about heading to open sea—but she did not listen to that conversation, because Will was gazing at her again as if he was still not sure she was in one piece.

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Checking to make sure you are truthfully okay," he retorted.

"I can handle myself perfectly fine, Will," sighed the girl, admittedly exasperated. After all, she had been training with him for the past four years in the forge. He should be **_confident_** about her ability, not worried.

Will chuckled. "Of course you can," he replied. "But I worried, because you were not brought with me. I was not sure you and Jack would escape."

She smiled somewhat and placed a hand on his arm. "We're alright. There is no longer any need to worry—we're together."

This last seemed to comfort him greatly… just then, however, his eyes narrowed. Ophelia followed his line of sight and realized he was looking at Captain Jack—without another word, Will began to stalk towards him. Once he approached the captain, he said, "Jack. Elizabeth is in danger."

"Have you considered keeping a more watchful eye on her, maybe just lock her up somewhere?" questioned Jack.

Ophelia had to restrain a snort. Jack heard it and shot her a gratified smirk.

Will, however, did **_not_** hear it, and exclaimed angrily, "She **_is_** locked up, bound to hang for helping you!"

"There comes a times when one must take responsibility for one's mistakes," retorted Jack.

Irritated by the captain's nonchalant attitude, Will whirled around and stole a sword from a crew member's sheath. He then directed it towards Jack's neck—the suddenness of the gesture made Ophelia inhale sharply and step backwards. "I need that compass of yours, Jack," persisted Will. "I must trade it for her freedom."

The Captain sighed and moved Will's blade to his other shoulder. Yet he still called, "Mister Gibbs?"

"Aye, Captain?" asked the man Ophelia had seen earlier, whose name was apparently Gibbs.

"We have a need to travel upriver," declared Jack.

"By need, do you mean a trifling need? Fleeting? As in, say, a passing fancy?"

"No, a… resolute and unyielding need," answered Jack, much to his first mate's exasperation.

Will looked rather frustrated as well as he retorted, "What we need to do is make sail for Port Royal with all haste."

"William, I shall trade you the compass if you will help me to find this." And Jack pulled out a worn out piece of cloth and flopped it upon a railing of the ship. Both Ophelia and Will leaned forward to get a look—drawn on the cloth was a picture of a key.

"You want me to find this?" questioned Will, raising an eyebrow.

"No. **_You_** want you to find this. Because the finding of this finds you incapacitorially finding and/or locating in your discovering a way to save your dolly belle, ol-what's-her-face. Savvy?"

Jack looked mightily pleased with himself, and he began to stalk off—but then he stopped and pointed at Ophelia as if she had only just arrived. "Wait a minute. Why exactly are you saving said bonny lass if you've already got one here?"

Ophelia blinked, wondering what Will would say.

"You mean Ophelia?" clarified Will, looking incredulous. He glanced at her face and smiled before answering, "She's my best friend, Jack, but different from Elizabeth, just as Elizabeth is different from Ophelia. Neither of them could ever replace the other."

Ophelia swallowed hard. She had never dared to hope she meant so much to Will before. Although it was not a romantic love he felt for her, his care for her was apparently strong nonetheless.

"Wait a minute," exclaimed Gibbs, suddenly reappearing into the conversation and distracting Ophelia from her thoughts. "When did a woman appear onboard? That's bad luck, Jack, you **_know_** that is!"

"Oh, enough of that," scoffed Jack. "She could be a valuable addition to the ship. As long as we keep to the shallows, no bad luck will hit us. At any rate, William… I suppose I must accept your point, even if I do not understand it. Now, more importantly—are you prepared to help me retrieve this key?"

"Will it save Elizabeth?"

Jack's eyebrows raised, and he sauntered past Ophelia to murmur in Will's ear, "How much do you know about… Davy Jones?"

Will looked unimpressed. "Not much."

"Yeah. It's going to save Elizabeth," answered Jack. And then he swaggered down onto the deck, shouting some orders to some of the crew members before returning to the helm of the ship.

Gibbs soon followed him, looking thoroughly disgruntled. Then it was only Will and Ophelia.

The girl sighed and questioned, "So this is the pirate life?"

Will chuckled. "A very small taste of it. Believe me, there's usually more danger."

"I daresay there will be plenty of opportunities to experience it," she replied, trying not to smirk. But there was a tightness in her chest based on something Will had said… and she could not keep it back. "Will, did you really mean—did you really mean what you said?"

"What did I say?" he queried, gazing at her with a puzzled smile.

"That I was irreplaceable, even by Elizabeth."

His confusion morphed into something that resembled amusement; Will almost laughed as he replied, "Of course I meant it. She is not my best friend. You are, Ophie. Now come on. I'll show you around the _Pearl._ "

He ruffled her dark hair like he did on only a few occasions—with a grin, Ophelia quickly followed him. If she was going to sail on this ship with pirates, she might as well know her way around.


	6. Chapter 5

The next couple of days were spent with the _Pearl_ heading closer and closer to a set of mountain ranges that shadowed a river. Apparently, that river was Captain Jack's destination—or, more accurately, something or someone that lived along the riverbank was.

During this time, Ophelia spent her days on deck, often helping to maintain the ship's course. Will spent a lot of time teaching her the basics, and Captain Jack himself thought he would be the one to teach her how to steer a ship.

"It's actually quite simple," he declared with a sniff. "Although only those with authority are allowed to do so."

That made her laugh. "Don't worry, Jack, I have no intention of ever steering the ship. You are undoubtedly better than me."

There was a smug look on his face after that.

Other than being taught the ways of the ship, Jack and Will managed to find some trousers and a shirt for her to wear instead of her dress. By that time, the beautiful pale-pink dress Ophelia had sewn and created was destroyed; it had absorbed the seawater and was torn from her run through the jungle while escaping the cannibals. They also managed to locate some boots and an extra sword, so she would look "just like one o' me crew," as Jack put it.

Despite her relief being in fresh clothes, however, Ophelia didn't know what to do to conceal her scar. It was still a furious black, as if it were a poisoned wound, and she did not want to look at it if she did not have to. The same could be said regarding the golden ring given to her by Lord Beckett… she detested remembering it was there, remembering what awaited her when she returned to Port Royal.

Yes, she had made her choice… but that did not mean she was happy with it.

Most of the crew did not notice her scar or her ring; if they did, they did not care. But Jack noticed and was apparently curious. He peered at it before declaring, "How did you get that mark, love? Were you a pirate before after all? And what's with the ring?"

Ophelia laughed and replied, "This is some sort of scar I received when I was very, very young. I do not remember how I got it… but I despise looking at it. The ring is… another story."

"A pity about the scar," clucked Jack. "But if that's how you feel…"

He grabbed a clean rag and tied it around her hand. With a satisfied grin, he declared, "There we are, just like mine." He held up his own hand to prove that he wore a cloth around his left hand as well.

The girl smiled and murmured, "Thank you." She was surprised by how much Jack managed to comfort her by telling her she wasn't the only one with a scar.

But then, Jack asked what Ophelia hoped he would forget—"You did not tell me about your ring."

She contemplated lying for a moment… but then, Ophelia decided to tell him a small truth. "The ring? It means nothing to me. It is only a band; a reminder."

Jack nodded slowly, obviously aware that she was not telling him everything.

Only four more hours passed before Jack announced that they would need to use the longboats to ascend the river. Hearing that they were near land, Ophelia ran to the side of the deck and glanced out—she gasped.

The scenery was absolutely beautiful. The mountain ranges stood closer than ever, their peaks tall and menacing yet fascinating at the same time. Tall emerald trees were close by. A crystalline river opening into the ocean was just a few hundred feet away; she knew that was where the crew of the _Pearl_ would be heading.

Before she could say anything, however, Jack approached her and asked, "Would you help me with something, love?"

Ophelia nodded. "Of course. What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to help me catch the monkey."

For a moment, she was shocked. "The monkey?"

"Yes. That one, in case you haven't seen it." Jack said this while using a pistol to point out the monkey in the rigging—Ophelia squinted against the sunlight and saw a silhouette that looked remarkably like that accursed monkey…

"Ugh," she groaned. Ophelia knew that monkey well—each morning, without fail, the little menace would steal her breakfast straight out of her hand. Another of the crew members—Ragetti—had a lot of trouble with the beast. His glass eye would be stolen quite often by the creature.

Needles to say, Ophelia would not feel guilty for capturing it. Still, she was curious enough to inquire, "Why that one?"

"Because it's undead," answered Jack, as if it were obvious. "We'll be needing it as a bargaining chip where we're going, and I know I will not be able to capture the little bugger on my own. So I need your help, savvy?"

Ophelia smirked and shook her head, but she replied, "Very well."

"Excellent! I've already set up a trap for the little scamp, so all I need you to do is wait by the trap and close the lid on it while I drive it down here."

"Yes, Captain."

Jack blinked, but then grinned and stepped towards her. "I **_like_** you calling me 'Captain,'" he murmured, raising an eyebrow and appraising her approvingly. "Perhaps I might hear it more often?"

"I wouldn't bet on it," remarked Ophelia, but she had a hard time keeping a straight face as he raised his eyebrow even higher.

"So wait by the cage over there." He pointed it out to her. "And I'll be down presently, chasing the bastard."

Ophelia sighed, but did as was bid. She stood by the cage—which, she was amused to see, had a banana inside it—and simply watched as Jack began to climb the rigging. More than once, Jack got his foot stuck in the rope, making her laugh. In fact, the monkey seemed amused by it, too, because it screeched once or twice in an entertained manner.

"Stop that!" Jack scolded down at Ophelia. "You're encouraging it!"

"Perhaps if you learned how to climb, I wouldn't be laughing!"

"Would you like to switch places with me?"

"I daresay you're already halfway there! It'd be more work for you to come down, Captain!"

There was some grumbling; amongst that, Ophelia heard, " ** _Fine,_** then…" And he foraged on, much to Ophelia's penchant.

Presently, she heard him mutter, "Here, you little bugger! Come here!"

The monkey just screeched and hopped down the rigging, nimbly navigating the ropes.

"OI!" shouted Jack. "Get back here!"

Ophelia watched with amusement and hilarity as Jack seized a loose rope and used it to swing back down to the ground—but the monkey also caught her attention. It was heading **_straight_** for the cage, with the banana sitting inside it. In fact, it actually ran straight in and immediately devoured the fruit. Ophelia made sure to quickly shut the door and lock it so the little creature couldn't escape it.

"Got it!" she cried triumphantly. She then turned around only to see that Jack was barreling straight towards her.

"Look out!" he exclaimed, but too late. He stumbled forward only to crash into Ophelia and land on the stairs of the main deck.

Will, who had been drawn towards the commotion, exclaimed, "Ophelia! Are you alright?"

But there was no need for him to worry; she and Jack were laughing too hard to respond, even though they were both sprawled upon the stairs.

"Now **_that_** is how you catch a monkey," declared Jack, grinning complacently at Ophelia, who could only laugh and roll her eyes.

* * *

Hours passed. Soon, it was well into the night; the crew of the _Pearl_ had transferred into longboats a while back and were steadily rowing upriver. Much to Ophelia's displeasure, however, they were still another hour's travel away from their destination. Despite her efforts to inquire where they were headed, Ophelia still had no clue to their purpose off the sea.

At last, exasperated with her lack of answers, she leaned over the boat, tapped Jack on the shoulder, and asked him softly, "Why are you afraid of the ocean?"

The Captain jumped, startled. Seeing that it was only Ophelia, however, he merely snickered to himself and shook his head.

"Why won't you tell me?" she murmured, cocking her head sideways.

"Because you would not understand."

"Try me," retorted Ophelia, raising an eyebrow.

Jack opened his mouth as if to respond—but then he shut it again and would not give her any answers, leaving her forced to ask the crew the same question.

Although many seemed as clueless about Jack's purposes as well, Gibbs managed to answer her… "Well, if you believe such things, there's a beast that does the bidding of Davy Jones. A fearsome creature with giant tentacles that'll suction your face clean off and drag an entire ship down to the crushing darkness… The Kraken."

There was a shudder all along the boat; Ophelia glanced across their faces and noted the crew's fear.

"They say the stench of its breath is like…" Gibbs could not finish the description. He shuddered instead, leaving it to the imagination. "Imagine, the last thing you know on God's green earth is the roar of the Kraken and the reeking odor of a thousand rotting corpses… If you believe such things," he added shakily.

It did little to comfort Ophelia, who thought the Kraken sounded nothing less than dreadful.

"And the key will spare him that?" queried Will, remembering the drawing of the key on the parchment that Jack had.

"Well, that's the question that Jack wants answered. Bad enough even to go visit… **_her,_** **"** responded Gibbs.

Ophelia leaned forward, eager to know of their purpose upriver. Apparently, Will was also intrigued, because he repeated, "Her?"

Gibbs nodded gravely. "Aye. Her."

And he would say nothing more, leaving both Will and Ophelia more curious than ever.

* * *

Once it was pitch-black, the crew of the _Pearl_ arrived at their destination. At Jack's orders, the two longboats stopped in front of a wooden hut close to the end of the river. The only thing Ophelia could see other than the cabin was Jack's excited smile as he clambered out of the boat and offered her a hand.

Ophelia took it, if only to humor him.

"Tell someone to mind the boat, would you, love?" he asked, smirking as he glanced at her over his shoulder.

She nodded and did as was asked. Turning to Gibbs, she said, "Captain says mind the boat."

"Ooh, you called me **_Captain!_** " exclaimed Jack, making Ophelia sigh and restrain a smirk.

"Mind the boat," Gibbs passed on to Will—who passed it to Marty—who passed it to Ragetti and Pintel, and finally to Cotton, who plopped back into the boat with a malcontent expression on his face.

After that was decided, Ophelia turned back to Jack. "So who is this that we're going to see? Is she dangerous?"

"Worry not, lassie! Tia Dalma and I go **_way_** back," reassured Jack with a flamboyant wave of his arm. "Thick as thieves. Nigh inseparable, we are. Were… have been. Before…" He trailed off with a rather lost expression on his face.

Gibbs stepped forward then and clapped a hand on Jack's shoulder. "I'll watch your back," he declared.

Jack, however, merely muttered, "It's me front I'm worried about," and stepped through the door, gesturing Ophelia to follow him.

And so she did—inside the cabin was a ragtag collection of oddities… jars of strange objects hung from the ceiling, mixed with lanterns that lit the foyer. Other items lounged on tables. It was beyond cluttered—Ophelia thought it might be proper to clean out some of the junk. She had to watch where she stepped to avoid breaking something.

Just as she was wondering whether it was worth it to shove a block of mud out of the way, a deep woman's voice distracted her: "Jack Sparrow!"

"Tia Dalma!" exchanged Jack, holding his arms out as if to embrace the woman. Ophelia glanced around him to get a good look at her.

The woman called Tia Dalma was dark skinned and had a few sparse tattoos trailing down her arms. Her eyes were darker than dark-chocolate, and her smile was warm as she looked at the Captain with true affection. Ophelia wondered what their relations were, exactly.

"I always knew the wind was going to blow you back to me one day," crooned Tia Dalma, stepping forward towards the party. Ophelia noticed an accent in her voice; it seemed to soothe the crew, which only made her more suspicious.

That was when Tia Dalma's gaze drifted from Jack to someone behind Ophelia—Will, who had been standing protectively behind her.

Seeing him, the woman gasped. "You… you have a touch of destiny about you, William Turner." She moved toward Will and reached as if to touch his face—

 _Oh, wonderful,_ grumped Ophelia to herself. _Reach out to both Jack_ _ **and**_ _Will._

"You know me?" asked Will, sounding incredulous.

"You want to know me…?" she asked, leaning towards his face. Will looked mildly uncomfortable.

Ophelia had just about had enough of this woman and was ready to do something for Will's defense—but before she could get to it, Jack stepped between them and exclaimed, "There'll be no knowing here! We've come for help and we're not leaving without it." After this declaration, he turned to Tia Dalma and said petulantly, "I thought **_I_** knew you."

"Not so well as I had—" Tia Dalma began to say, but then she caught sight of Ophelia and froze.

" ** _What?_** " Tia Dalma gasped, staring at her. "But…"

Ophelia glanced over her shoulder to see Will and the rest of the crew utterly confused. She looked to Jack for reassurance as well, but even the Captain looked astonished.

Ophelia was just about to ask Tia Dalma what was wrong, but then the other woman shrieked and threw an empty jar at her. Ophelia cried out and ducked underneath the pottery—it sailed over her head and hit Gibbs in the stomach, making the first mate double over.

" ** _Get out!_** " shrieked Tia Dalma, rearming herself with a wooden block. She threw that too, but this one Ophelia caught. When Ophelia caught it, Tia Dalma seized her wrist.

"Ah! Hey!" exclaimed Ophelia, but her protestations were unheard. Tia Dalma grabbed the cloth that Jack had given her to hide her scar and untied it. As always, the ugly black scar covered the back of her hand, as dark as the night sky.

Tia Dalma howled angrily and flung Ophelia's wrist to the side. " ** _Get out of my house!_** " she demanded, pushing Ophelia backwards.

"No!" retorted Ophelia, shoving Tia Dalma away from her, making the other woman stagger backward. "Not until Jack gets what he needs!"

"Uh—love," began Jack, stepping forward. "Let me handle this." He gently pushed Ophelia behind him and muttered to Will, "Watch over her, mate."

Will nodded and kept a hand on Ophelia's elbow. While normally this would've made her happy, under the circumstances, she was much too confused and angry to care.

Tia Dalma, it appeared, was also still furious. "Jack Sparrow! How **_dare_** you lead her to me?!"

Jack looked nonplussed. "Tia, I have **_no_** idea what you're on about. Why exactly is Olivia's presence… er… a problem?"

"Ophelia!" corrected Ophelia exasperatedly.

"Not now, lassie," grumbled Jack out of the corner of his mouth.

"Her very **_presence_** is an insult to me!" shrieked Tia Dalma, her dark eyes spitting fire. "I will not help you while that wretch is in your custody!"

Jack and Will both inhaled and glanced at Ophelia, who was looking at them in turn. There wasn't much else for it except for her to leave.

Ophelia was about to open her mouth to speak, but Jack beat her to it. "No, no. I have a **_better_** idea! I have payment! A very good one! She needs to stay."

The Captain then whistled. "Oi! Bring the monkey!"

Pintel grunted and pushed past her, carrying the caged monkey to the Captain. But Ophelia hardly cared about that accursed mammal any longer… she was staring at Jack in confusion. Why was he trying to bargain for her to stay? Surely he didn't actually **_care_** about her curiosity—about her—at all?

But he was looking at her as if he **_did._**

With a sigh, Pintel plopped the cage upon the table. The monkey hissed and spat at him, but the ragged pirate just hissed in return.

Jack stumbled forward to negotiate. "You see this lovely little prize, Tia? All yours for the keeping! Very good at retrieving things for you. And look!"

The Captain raised his pistol to the monkey and, without warning, fired a loud bullet into it. The monkey just screeched in indignation.

"Undead! Top **_that,_** " he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

For a moment, it was entirely silent in the cabin. Tia Dalma's gaze flickered from the monkey to Ophelia, a war in her eyes. It was clear she dearly loved the monkey already—but it was just as clear that she despised Ophelia and her existence as well.

At last, however, Tia Dalma sighed, "Very **_well._** The payment is fair."

"Excellent!" remarked Jack, clapping his hands. As Tia Dalma ushered them into the next room, he turned backwards to Ophelia and winked. "There you are, lassie. Now you don't have to miss out on all the fun."


	7. Chapter 6

It was Will who began the business discussion. Pulling out the parchment of the key drawing, he told Tia Dalma, "We're looking for this, and what it goes to."

Tia Dalma inspected the parchment; her cold gaze travelled purposefully over Ophelia to Jack. Sharply, she inquired, "The compass you bartered from me. It cannot lead you to this?"

"Maybe," retorted Jack. "Why?"

This seemed to amuse the woman. With a coy smile that was almost a leer, she murmured, "I hear you… Jack Sparrow does not know what he wants! Or… **_do_** you know, but are loath to claim it as your own?" She paused for a moment before gazing out over the crew and continuing. "Your key go to a chest. And it is what lay inside the chest you seek, don't it?"

"What **_is_** inside?" requested Gibbs.

"Gold?" suggested Pintel eagerly. "Jewels? Unclaimed property of an invaluable nature?!"

Ophelia inspected the drawing of the key. It looked dark, and, for some reason, unsettlingly sinister.

It was Ragetti who spoke what she feared. "Nothing… bad, I hope?"

Instead of answering, Tia Dalma apparently decided to change the subject. "You know of Davy Jones, yes? A man of the sea. A great sailor! Until he run afoul of that which vex all men."

She glared at Ophelia, as if to scorn her lack of knowledge about sailors.

Will did not notice this glare, and therefore asked, "What vexes all men?"

Tia Dalma simply chuckled. "What indeed?"

Once again, the crew began to blurt out their thoughts. It was Gibbs who began it: "The sea?"

"Sums?" said Pintel.

"The dichotomy of good and evil," suggested Ragetti—this answer earned him a few strange looks.

Captain Jack sighed heavily—Ophelia turned to look at him and noticed, with surprise, that he was looking at her as he answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "A woman."

She blinked and stared back at him, wondering if he meant anything by this.

Luckily, Tia Dalma did not seem to notice. She was too wrapped up in the story about Davy Jones—"A woman!" she exclaimed, nodding. "He fell in love…"

"No, no, no," interrupted Gibbs, shaking his head vigorously. "I heard it was the **_sea_** he fell in love with."

Tia Dalma's gaze swiveled to him rapidly. "Same story, different versions, and all are true!" she retorted, pointing at him in a threatening manner. She then returned to the tale. "See, it was a woman as changing and harsh and untamable as the sea. Him never stopped loving her. But the pain it cause him was too much to live with… but not enough to cause him to die."

As she spoke, she glared at Ophelia as if the girl had done her a personal wrong. Ophelia couldn't quite wrap her head around it.

Will seemed to notice Tia Dalma's malice towards Ophelia as well, because he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and directed Tia Dalma's attention onto him by asking, "What exactly did he put in the chest?"

This seemed to be the question that Tia Dalma was waiting for. With a gruesome yet satisfied smile, she answered, "Him heart."

"Literally, or… figuratively?" questioned Ragetti.

"Well, he couldn't **_literally_** put his heart in a chest!" spluttered Pintel indignantly. But then, his eyes widened, and he asked for reassurance, "Could he?"

Tia Dalma sneered and narrowed her eyes. "It was not worth feeling what small, fleeting joy life brings. And so… him **_carve_** out him heart, lock it away in a chest and hide the chest from the world. The key… he keep with him at all times."

Will inhaled sharply. Ophelia grasped his hand to reassure him, even though she knew what this meant as well as he—in order to get Jack's compass for Elizabeth, he'd have to steal the key from Davy Jones himself.

Coming to this conclusion, Will wheeled on Jack. "You knew this."

"I did not!" defended Jack, raising his chin. "I didn't know where the key was. But now we do. So all that's left it to climb aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ , grab the key, and you go back to Port Royal to save your bonny lass, eh!"

He turned swiftly as if to hightail it out of Tia Dalma's cottage, but before he could, she stood up and demanded, "Let me see your hand."

Jack froze where he stood and whirled back around, handing her his right hand. Tia Dalma, however, just gave him a look and, knowing that there was no escaping her, Jack sighed and handed her his left hand—the one he had shown Ophelia; the one with the cloth tied around it.

Ophelia could not deny that she was curious about what was on his hand… did he have a scar exactly like her own? What could it mean?

Everyone watched with apprehension as Tia Dalma started to unravel the scarf tied around Jack's hand… Ophelia and Will leaned forward, perhaps the most eager to see what would lie underneath.

When it was revealed, the rest of the crew gasped in horror.

"The black spot!" squeaked Gibbs, who promptly spat on the floor, started rubbing his hands on his shirt, and then turned around in a circle like a funny jig.

Seeing this, Pintel and Ragetti both whimpered as well, "Black spot!" and began performing the same rituals.

Jack sighed. "My eyesight's as good as ever, just so you know."

Ophelia couldn't help but laugh—the pirate shot her a gratified smile.

At first, the girl wondered if this exchange would anger Tia Dalma at all. But when she glanced around, she realized that the woman was retreating to her back room, where lots of clattering and clanging proved that it was just as cluttered as the front room. She seemed to be muttering to herself as she searched for whatever-it-was in the back room. Ophelia used the woman's absence as an opportunity to ask Jack, "What does the black spot mean to you?"

Jack sighed again, more reluctantly than before. "It means… that Davy Jones's beastie is gunning for me, love. Me and my ship."

"And everyone else on it?" asked Ophelia.

Jack was quiet for a moment before he raised a hand and gently brushed some of her dark-chocolate hair behind her shoulder. "Aye," he answered softly. "And everyone else on it."

Ophelia wished she could say something to comfort him—but nothing came to her mind.

"Ophelia," said a voice; the girl glanced over her shoulder to see Will was somewhat glaring at her and Jack. His gaze softened, however, as he saw her curious expression. "You don't need to worry yourself with horror stories."

"Better to know than be caught off-guard," she answered calmly, earning a smile from Jack and a malcontent grumble from Will.

Before Will could retort, Tia Dalma reemerged from her back room, holding a jar of sand.

"Davy Jones cannot make port. Cannot step on land but once every ten years," she explained. "Land is where you are safe, Jack Sparrow, and so you will carry land with you."

She then offered him the jar of sand. Jack took it with a questioning glance. "Dirt," he stated plainly. "This is a jar of dirt."

"Yes."

"Is the… jar of dirt going to help?"

"If you don't want it, give it back," she retorted.

"No!" refused Jack, coveting the jar of dirt possessively.

Tia Dalma grinned. "Then it helps," she mused, still looking pleased with herself.

With that over, Will again stepped forward. There was a shadow in his eyes as he next spoke. "It seems we have a need to find the _Flying Dutchman._ "

Tia Dalma nodded softly and moved towards a table before grabbing a few bones and murmuring, "A touch of destiny…"

The bones landed, scattered, across a map of the sea on her table. She began to point out to Jack where exactly the _Flying Dutchman_ was located—but as she spoke, Ophelia pulled Will to the side.

"Will, I do not want to see you go aboard that ship," mumbled Ophelia. "It's dangerous and accursed if the rumors are true. You can't go alone."

Will chuckled and placed a hand on her arm. "I must, Ophelia. I did not ask you to come with me, as glad as I am that you are here. I will not see you captured and tortured, not if I can save you."

Somewhat offended, Ophelia gaped. "I can defend myself as well as you! Or do you forget again? I came here to protect **_you!_** "

"Perhaps you did, but I swore to myself to protect **_you._** This is not your fight, Ophelia. You are here for me, but I am here for Elizabeth. You have no such obligation. You will stay on the _Pearl._ "

"Like hell. We're doing this **_together._** Just like we promised," retorted Ophelia, whisking away from him and returning to Jack's side.

"Ophelia—" called Will, but she was already standing by the Captain.

Hearing this, Jack glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. "You alright, love?"

"Fine," she grumbled despite the clear evidence to the contrary. But then a little idea popped into her head… if anyone was good at planning escapes or undercover missions, it was Jack Sparrow. And so, lowering her voice, she added, "But I would like to talk to you once we're back on the _Pearl._ "

Jack was silent, but he nodded to let her know it would be allowed.

With that, Jack declared it was time to go—he thanked Tia Dalma heartily for her help, which was accepted gracefully… but Ophelia noted that she was still shot dirty looks, even though she had no idea why.

* * *

Once they were back on the ship, Jack commanded everyone to start making sail for the coordinates that Tia Dalma had given them. There was some reluctance on Ragetti's and Pintel's parts, but soon they got to their posts and continued on.

After they were certain that everyone was occupied—especially Will—Jack ushered Ophelia into the Captain's cabin. It was a rather nice part of the ship; maps were strewn across the desk, and a bottle of rum balanced precariously on the table, next a goblet full of the same liquid. Jack offered Ophelia a seat; once she took it, he said, "Alright, lass. What do you want?"

"I want to go on the _Dutchman_ with Will when he goes," she declared authoritatively.

Jack's mouth dropped open halfway and he cleared his throat once or twice. "That… er, may not be the safest idea, Olivia."

" ** _Ophelia,_** " grumbled Ophelia. "Honestly, Jack, how long is it going to take you to get my name right?"

"To be fair, I'm terrible with names."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't remain quite as exasperated as before. "Anyway," she resumed before Jack could stray even more off topic, "I don't care if it isn't the safest idea. I'm here because I wanted to make sure that Will wouldn't get himself killed, and if he goes on the _Dutchman,_ you can bet that **_something_** will happen to him. I will prevent it if I can."

The Captain, however, merely shook his head. "I won't let you do it. You don't know what they're capable of over there."

"And this is me saying I don't give a damn!" shouted Ophelia, slamming her hand down onto the table. The goblet of rum atop the table rumbled at the force; Jack lunged forward to keep it from falling over. "Everyone forgets I can defend myself! I am not some doll to protect! I will go, one way or another!"

Jack sighed and sipped from his rum before plopping down in a chair and putting his feet up on the table. "Tell me, lass, **_why_** exactly you're so intent on protecting Master William? He's certainly capable of defending himself."

"I know he is. He taught me."

"You're avoiding my question."

"Because he is my lifelong friend, and all I have in this life. I have nothing to lose, Jack," confessed Ophelia. "Other than Will, I have no one. He has been my world for the vast majority of my life. I love no one else in this world like I love him—I will not lose him like this."

Realizing that she had just admitted her feelings for her friend, Ophelia blinked and carefully watched Jack's face. The pirate, at first, didn't seem to comprehend what she had said… but after a moment, his eyes widened, and his gaze was redirected from his rum to her face.

"So… you're in love with him, then?" he asked.

Ophelia stared back at him, a glaze in her eyes.

Her silence was Jack's answer. He raised an eyebrow and tipped the rest of the rum into his mouth, muttering, "Well, it wasn't entirely unexpected," as he did.

"I must make sure he marries Elizabeth," continued Ophelia desperately. "If he dies, I will not forgive myself. If he fails, I will not forgive myself. I will have made a promise for nothing."

This caught Jack's attention. Leaning forward, he inquired, "What promise?"

She sighed and removed the cloth from around her left hand—the shiny black of the scar, the black that looked remarkably like dark ink, shone out at them even brighter than the gold of the ring on her finger.

"Your scar?" he asked, gently taking her hand and turning it over.

Ophelia shook her head. "No," she answered softly. "Do you remember what else caught your attention the first time you saw this hand?"

Jack's eyes shot back up to her face. "Your ring. You never **_did_** tell me what it was for."

She nodded and took a deep breath. Knowing this could be dangerous to tell him, Ophelia stared at the wall above Jack's head and confessed, "I'm engaged."

" ** _Engaged?!_** "

She nodded sadly. "To Lord Cutler Beckett, the owner and commander of the East India Trading Company."

Jack lunged away from her, repulsed by the very sound of his name. " ** _Bleck!_** " he spat, glaring at the ring upon her hand. "Why would you do **_that?!_** "

"I did not want to!" she cried, tears welling in her eyes. "I had no choice! He has promised **_you_** pardon from the law, promised **_Elizabeth_** pardon—the only one to whom he did not bestow a guarantee of freedom was Will! And he wished me to marry him in exchange for it. Was I supposed to refuse and watch the man I love hang from the gallows? No! I would rather watch him live his life in happiness with no chance for my own, than watch him die when I could have saved him. Do not judge me, Jack Sparrow, for what I have to do. I have sacrificed my happiness for him—and I will give him my life too if I must."

Her spiel over, Ophelia plopped into one of the other chairs in the cabin and put her head in her hands. Before, her engagement to Lord Beckett had been only a nagging thought in her mind. Now, her unhappiness with the arrangement was glaringly obvious. She didn't know if she could take it.

With frustration, she realized that she had begun to cry. Luckily, they were silent tears, so she was able to cover them easily… at least, she had been able to until she felt Jack pry her hands away from her face.

"Hey," he exclaimed, sounding surprised. "Stop that."

Needless to say, Ophelia couldn't.

There was a brief silence until Jack sighed and said, "Alright, fine. I'll do whatever I can to help you get on the _Dutchman._ I do have one question for you, though, lassie."

"What is it?" she moaned.

"How far are you willing to go to protect him? What are you willing to do?"

Ophelia stared him in the eye and immediately replied, "Anything."

Jack nodded severely. "I'm glad you're that certain of yourself, love. Where you're going, you'll need to remember what you're holding onto. In all honesty, I do not want to see you board that ship. It can transform you."

"Why should you care?" she laughed throatily, trying to restrain more tears.

"Because you're part of me crew," answered Jack swiftly. Then, however, he moved ever so closer and added, "And I **_have_** grown rather fond of you, love."

Ophelia blinked and cocked her head sideways, terribly self-conscious of this. "Have you?" was all she was able to ask.

"Just a titch," he replied, leaning forward so there were only mere inches between them. His eyes were teasing as he murmured, "Don't let it get to you."

With this comment, Ophelia blinked and simply stared at the Captain. "Let it get to me?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "How so?"

He smirked. "Well, I **_am_** Captain Jack Sparrow."

Ophelia laughed at that—a full laugh, one that made her smile stretch across her face and made her throw her head back in mirth. As she laughed, she felt Jack lean forward and kiss her, him pulling her close, seating her on his lap as his lips parted hers. For a moment, Ophelia froze; but then she sighed and let herself feel free, if only for a moment.

Despite the ring on her finger, and despite whatever fear she held in her heart for Will's safety, Ophelia could appreciate the fleeting moment in which she felt like she had a chance to find her own happiness.

After a moment, Ophelia pulled away and rested her forehead against his. She smiled at him then and asked, "What was that?"

"That was my price for helping you sneak onto the _Dutchman,_ " he replied, raising an eyebrow. "I don't quite want to lose you, lassie. That being said, if you succeed, you'll be getting something more exciting than that as a welcome back."

Ophelia couldn't help but laugh. She felt herself hope that perhaps, with Jack's help, everything might turn out alright. "Thank you," she exhaled shakily. "Thank you, Jack."

Jack put a hand to her face and grinned. "Anything for you, love."


	8. Chapter 7

A few days passed, and Jack was good on his word about crafting a plot to sneak Ophelia onto the _Dutchman_ with Will whenever they would come upon it. It was rather quick to establish that Jack would give Ophelia a longboat to travel after Will in—so long as she was quiet when she followed him, she would have no trouble rowing up to the _Dutchman._

With that first part of the plan completed, Ophelia and Jack would often sit in the Captain's quarters and think about how they might get ahold of the key to Davy Jones's chest. The biggest problem they'd yet faced was thinking about where the key might be located.

"I would think it'd be in the Captain's quarters," mused Jack, nodding thoughtfully.

"That seems logical," agreed Ophelia. "It's a start, at least."

And they would continue this discussion for long hours.

Despite the fact that they never spoke of these plans in daylight, Ophelia could not help but notice that Will seemed suspicious. He would spend almost all of his time with her—not that this bothered Ophelia in any way—as if to make sure she wasn't plotting anything. Despite his attempts to discover her ruse, however, he didn't seem to have done so.

Ophelia and Jack would often share amused looks when Will wasn't looking.

One evening, however, Will cornered Ophelia while she was standing calmly, watching the waves, and said, "I know you're planning something, Ophelia."

She pretended to be surprised. "Planning what?"

Will smirked. "Nice try. But I know you. I know you're going to try and follow me onto the _Dutchman._ I suspect you've been enlisting Jack's help."

"Do you really think I'd need his help if I **_was_** planning to follow you?"

"No," he answered, turning so that he was looking Ophelia straight in the eyes as he spoke. "But I know that you would ask him for help anyway, if only to ensure that your plot would work."

Ophelia had to resist a shiver with how accurate Will was being. She'd been relatively sure that he hadn't figured anything out… but here they were. Instead of acting guilty, however, she merely raised an eyebrow and sighed, "How quaint. You've put a lot of thought into this."

"That comment could be directed back to **_you,_** " announced Will, raising an eyebrow in a mocking manner. "Don't deny it, Ophie. I saw you entering the Captain's quarters last night."

That made her freeze. She suddenly found she couldn't look Will in the eye.

"Care to confess?" asked Will, observing her change in demeanor. "Or will you try and tell me that you aren't, in fact, planning to follow me, but that you've found a special **_solace_** with Jack?"

Ophelia coughed somewhat and started choking—that made Will laugh. But at last, she relented. "Very **_well,_** " she huffed. "So I was asking for his help. But it is for a good reason, if I may say so myself. You **_are_** a magnet for trouble, William Turner."

"I can defend myself. Or have you forgotten?" smirked Will.

His comment made her exclaim in shock—he burst into laughter seeing the expression on his face. He knew as well as she did that he was quoting her from countless occasions throughout the journey.

Finally, Ophelia regained her wits to slap his cheek halfheartedly. "Will Turner!" she exclaimed.

"Ophelia Bennett!" he returned, dancing out of the way as she lunged to hit him again.

She couldn't swallow her laughter as he held out his hands in a challenging gesture, as if inviting her to try it again. Knowing that he would just run around and tire her out, Ophelia withdrew her sword and mused, "I wonder what would happen if I were to threaten to never leave your side until we were both aboard the _Dutchman?_ "

Will looked amused by the thought. "It would certainly ensue that we were together for the most perilous part of the journey."

With a grin on her face, Ophelia sheathed her sword. "Well, that's exactly what I want to do, so perhaps I shall do it."

Will groaned and shook his head, which made Ophelia smirk. Before he could speak, however, she added, "But perhaps that won't be necessary. Perhaps I could bargain something with you… Jack and I haven't only been talking about how to sneak me on the ghost ship, but about where the key to the chest might be."

This certainly caught his attention. All facetiousness vanished from Will's face as he looked at Ophelia and inquired, "Do you really think you know where it is?"

Ophelia nodded, though it was a touch hesitant. "Jack and I think it'll be somewhere in the Captain's quarters. We'll have to figure out a way to get inside."

"You mean **_I_** will have to figure a way to get inside."

Ophelia groaned. "Will, honestly! This is not your fight alone! I came here to fight it with you, so that we might both return to Port Royal with happiness in reach. Do not be a foolish, singlehanded hero. You have someone willing to give you assistance—why will you not take it?!"

"It is not your responsibility, Ophelia!" retorted Will. "I am facing losing Elizabeth! How do you think I would feel if I lost you as well?!"

"At least you **_have_** Elizabeth. If you lose me, you will still have her. But if I lose you? Who else do I have, Will?!"

For a moment, the two simply glared at each other… it was Will who sighed and spoke next. "Ophelia, we are being premature. I am supposed to simply sneak onto the ship and steal the key. If it is in the Captain's quarters, then I can find it and sneak back to the _Pearl._ I am not going to the _Dutchman_ to slay every living crew member there. Having you accompany me might throw things off."

At this, Ophelia raised an eyebrow. "Or it could make the search that much quicker."

"God—" Will started, slapping a hand to his forehead. After a split second, however, he removed it and placed his hands on Ophelia's shoulders. "It will be dangerous, yes. I will not deny that. But I cannot let you risk yourself for this. It is my mission, and if I am to fail, that failure shall be my price to pay. Not yours, Ophie."

"Then why do I feel as if **_I_** will be the one paying the price if you are caught?" whispered Ophelia. Her hands were shaking as she gently placed one against Will's face. "If I do not see you again, I do not know what I will do."

Will smiled and kissed her forehead. "But I **_will_** see you again. I promised you then—and so I promise you now. Remain here on the _Pearl,_ and I shall see you again."

Without waiting for her response, Will smiled and walked away, leaving Ophelia staring helplessly after him.

Once he was gone, Jack approached. "Having a little domestic spat?" he questioned, half a leer upon his face.

Ophelia shot him a look—the smirk on Jack's face abruptly vanished. Seeing it, she sighed and muttered, "I assume you heard everything, then?"

"I wouldn't say everything. Perhaps the vast majority of it, yes…"

"Good. Then you'll have a solid opinion on what you think I should do."

Jack was silent for a moment before he shrugged and said, "Well, lassie, I'd say William knows what he's doing. **_Not_** that I believe him, of course," he added quickly, seeing the expression on her face. "It's still your choice whether or not you want to go after him. We shall be reaching the _Dutchman's_ location sometime tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning?" asked Ophelia, downcast. It would be harder to follow Will in broad daylight…

"Tomorrow morning," confirmed Jack, raising a goblet of rum. "You've got that much time to decide."

"I've already decided. I'm going after him."

"Then you'd better be prepared to deal with William's wrath," muttered Jack, sipping from the goblet.

Ophelia rolled her eyes. "I've dealt with him for twelve years," she declared. "I can deal with his wrath better than anyone—even Elizabeth." She rather spat the other woman's name, but it couldn't be helped… it was Elizabeth's fault that Will and Ophelia were even **_in_** this mess, anyway.

The venom did not escape Jack's notice either. Raising his eyebrows, he decreed in an attempt to calm her, "I do not doubt you. After all, you've put up with **_me_** for an impressive amount of time."

 ** _That_** made Ophelia laugh. She shot Jack a gratified grin; the Captain returned it. After a moment of silence between them, Jack said, "You should probably get some rest, love. It's getting late, and you'll need your rest for tomorrow morning."

Realizing that Jack was right, she nodded and said, "Thanks, Captain," before heading off to get some sleep.

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the night, Ophelia awoke.

She blinked groggily and wondered what was going on… there were lanterns glowing on deck, and she could've sworn that she woke up because people were screaming.

Confused and wondering if whoever was on duty needed help, Ophelia stretched and put on a loose blouse, her trousers, and grabbed her sword. She could always just head back to sleep if it was a false alarm—but maybe they were getting close to the _Dutchman._ Then she could wait until Will set off…

Ophelia walked cautiously up on deck—she heard Jack's voice somewhere above. As she emerged, she called, "Jack? What's going on?"

The answer was waiting for her.

Ophelia inhaled sharply and stumbled backwards, unsheathing her sword and pointing it straight at the squid standing three feet away from Jack.

"Get away from him!" she shrieked, sprinting towards Jack and pulling him away from the squid.

"It's alright, lassie," murmured Jack, but Ophelia wouldn't have it.

"Jack! Jack, what's going on?" she exclaimed, trying to pull him away. Just then, a pair of meaty hands clasped over her shoulders, yanking her back from Jack.

Ophelia cried out in shock and anger and stomped on the foot of the person behind her—there was a howl of pain, and then she elbowed the man in the stomach. On impact, however, she felt a sharp stab and felt a spurt of blood trail down her elbow.

She whirled around to glare at the man who'd grabbed her—her face paled. It wasn't a man at all; it was another sea creature, one with a less distinguishable form. Spikes protruded all throughout his body, and he was reaching for her again.

With a yelp, Ophelia lunged forward and impaled the creature in the stomach with her sword.

The creature doubled over, collapsing to its knees on the ground.

"Calm down, love!" exclaimed Jack, stumbling forward to drag her away from the creature. He pressed her close to his body as if to protect her as he mumbled, "It's alright. I've got it under control."

Ophelia, however, had just finished perusing the scene. Her face still white, she whispered, "Do you?" She locked eyes with Ragetti and Pintel, both of whom were captured by more of the hideously disfigured monsters. They looked no less than terrified. Her gaze swept over the deck and she noted that Gibbs, Marty, and Cotton were all restrained the same way.

"Yes, lassie," soothed Jack. "All under control."

"Where's Will?"

She received no answer. Ophelia noticed. "Jack?" she asked slowly. "Where is Will?"

But Jack wouldn't look at her. Instead, his focus was returned on the squid in front of him. Ophelia gazed at the squid and tried not to flinch. She had never, in her wildest dreams, expected to encounter anything like **_this_** during her voyage on the ocean…

She noticed that the squid was staring back at her curiously, as if trying to remember where he had seen her before. Despite its monstrous appearance, its eyes were a very humanoid shade of blue-green—very much like the ocean in the daylight.

For a moment, there was silence, until Ophelia thought that this nonverbal exchange was beginning to unnerve her. She thus decided to say, "What?" as fiercely as she could.

Naturally, the word was more a squeak than anything fierce. Clearing her throat, she asked again, "What? What do you want?"

But it just looked at her.

"Ah… lass," murmured Jack in her ear. "Do you happen to have any idea who this is?"

She narrowed her eyes at Jack, wondering if he was playing some sort of joke on her. But as she gazed over the monsters that were aboard the _Pearl,_ she realized how close they must've come to the _Dutchman._

"Yes," she answered breathlessly. "Davy Jones."

"Aye," replied Jack. "Bad news himself."

Jones didn't seem to like that answer. His gaze tore away from Ophelia—much to her relief—and back to Jack as he spat, "You have a debt to pay! You've been Captain of the _Pearl_ for thirteen years! **_That_** was our agreement!"

With each exclamation, he made one more step forward towards Jack. Ophelia reached for her sword only to remember she had embedded it in one of Jones's crew members.

"Technically, I was only Captain for two years, then I was **_viciously_** mutinied upon," replied Jack. As he spoke, he pushed Ophelia out of the way of Jones's immediate path, exposing himself fully to the squid's fury.

"Then yeh were a poor Captain, but a Captain nonetheless," retorted Jones. "Have you not introduced yourself all these years as **_Captain_** Jack Sparrow?" His voice was the slightest bit indistinct, as if he were underwater. Ophelia noted that his stature was vaguely humanoid… but that was where the human aspect of him ended. His face was that of a squid, including the tentacles for a beard. One of his hands was normal—the other was a lobster claw. His legs resembled a lobster's as well.

Ophelia wondered what Jones had undergone to become like this.

There was a noise of muffled pain; Ophelia looked over just in time to see the creature she'd impaled yank her sword out of its body. She gasped and watched, with wide eyes, as it hurled her weapon upon the deck.

Jack noticed her surprise and whistled, frantically gesturing below deck. "Oi. Love. Go back underneath."

"No!" she retorted. "Not without Will. Jack, **_where is he?_** "

The Captain flinched underneath Ophelia's intense tone. His eyes were the slightest bit apologetic as he sighed, "I didn't want to do this, lassie, but… I hate to tell you that I traded William to the _Dutchman_ as payment for my debt."


	9. Chapter 8

" ** _You WHAT?!_** " shrieked Ophelia, her face turning stark white.

Jack shrugged.

"J-Jack!" she wailed. "You—you promised to help us!"

Jack shrugged again and placed a hand in front of his mouth as if to try and restrain the next words that came out of his mouth. "I might've lied… just a little bit… about that. But everything else I said was true!" he added this last quickly based on the defeated and betrayed expression on her face.

But seeing his maddening little smirk, Ophelia's despair swiftly morphed into fury. She began shaking, and her fists were balled. She couldn't even move, she was so angry. Her eyes spat fire as she hissed, "You dirty, rum-besotted **_pirate!_** I **_trusted_** you!"

"Listen, love—"

"No!" screamed Ophelia, finally regaining feeling in her legs. She thrust a finger straight in front of him; Jack had to cross his eyes to see the finger she pointed at his face. "I am no love of yours! I am no bonny lass or damsel in distress, either! Not to you!"

"Come now, Olivia—"

" ** _My name is Ophelia Josephine Bennett, and you will do well to remember it!_** " shrieked Ophelia, launching forward and brutally slapping Jack across the face.

"Ophelia?" asked a voice, filled with surprise.

She jerked to see Davy Jones staring at her as if he'd just realized where he'd seen her before. There was an otherwise unreadable expression on his face—not pleased by this, Ophelia snapped, "Yes, Jones, and you'd better remember it too. I'm not afraid of you."

This much was mostly true… the only thing she was afraid of about Jones was what he might do to Will.

But Jones merely smirked, seeming amused, of all things. For a moment, they exchanged glances… but then, he started stalking toward her.

Ophelia tried to keep her look hard and unyielding, but it was difficult as his eyes pierced into hers. As he walked, he legs clunked noisily on the wooden deck, as they resembled a lobster's.

"You're not, are you?" he sneered, now only a few feet away from Ophelia. Up close, she could see that his expression was not only amused, but curious.

Mustering all her courage, Ophelia inhaled slowly and retorted, "No. I'm not."

Jones chuckled, a low menacing one. "Are yeh, now? Give me your hand."

Ophelia sneered, but held out her right hand.

Jones gave her a look, but she only raised her head and raised an eyebrow. Seeing that she wouldn't comply, his claw lunged out and seized Ophelia's left wrist—she inhaled sharply and glared at him. Before she could realize what he was doing, Jones untied the cloth around her left hand and wrenched her hand up so he could see it.

"Hey!" exclaimed Ophelia, but too late. The inky black of the scar was bared, and Jones was simply **_staring_** at it.

After a split second, Jones exhaled and chucked her hand back down to her side. Pointing at her face, he snarled, "Well, yeh **_should_** be."

"How… did you know about my scar?" she asked as a whisper for fear that others would hear.

Instead of answering, he just laughed, shook his head, and clumped his way back to the man who was trying to make a run for it… Jack Sparrow. "We're not done yet, Sparrow! You've got a debt to pay!"

Jack held up his hands as if in surrender. "You've already got my payment—one soul to serve on your ship. He's already over there!"

Ophelia grumbled under her breath and promised to curse Jack to oblivion if anything happened to Will.

"One soul does not equal another!"

"A-ha!" exclaimed Jack. "So we've established my proposal is sound in principle, now we're just haggling over price."

"I have an idea," volunteered Ophelia, narrowing her eyes. "How about Jack, you get Will **_off_** of the _Dutchman_ and find someone else to pay your debt!"

Jack beamed and scooted over to Ophelia as if to wrap an arm around her shoulder—she rebuffed the gesture, however, and glared at Jack to relay her feelings. "Just because I said that does **_not_** mean I will not kill you if anything happens to Will," she grumbled.

The Captain nodded and stepped back. "Right…" After a brief glance at Ophelia—who was still glaring menacingly at him—he looked back to Davy Jones. Stepping towards the _Dutchman's_ Captain, he questioned, "Just how many souls do you think mine is worth?"

Davy Jones stared at Jack for a moment, appraising him. After a nearly unbearable silence, he replied, "One hundred souls."

Ophelia gasped. How on **_earth_** was she going to get Will off the _Dutchman_ if Jack's debt was one hundred souls?

As it was, she stumbled backward and threw a hand to her throat. It was all but hopeless. There was absolutely no way that Jack would give himself up for Will or anyone. Jack was simply one of **_those_** pirates… the ones who would go to whatever lengths to save himself.

Therefore, saving Will would be impossible.

Jack seemed to notice Ophelia's declining state. He reached out as if to put a hand on her shoulder, but he retracted it as if he thought better. Clearing his throat, he put on a grin for Jones and exclaimed, "You're a **_diamond,_** mate. Send me back the boy and I'll get started right off!"

Ophelia's gaze shot up hopefully. Was Jack actually trying to help now?

"I keep the boy!" retorted Jones. "He's a good faith payment. That leaves yeh only ninety-nine souls to go."

Whatever shred of hope Ophelia had blooming in her chest immediately burned. She couldn't move at all… it was like she'd gone in shock. She could only watch Jack and Davy Jones glare heatedly at each other, tears steadily welling up in her eyes.

"Have you not met Will Turner?" interrogated Jack, raising an eyebrow and holding out his arms in challenge. "He's noble, heroic, a **_terrific_** soprano. Worth at least four… maybe three and a half."

"Jack!" wailed Ophelia, stumbling forward as if to slap him again. When she approached him, however, she only had the strength to put a hand on his shoulder.

Jack stared at her hand and glanced at her face. He noted the tears there and added, looking into her eyes, "And did I happen to mention… he's in love?"

Both Ophelia and Jones stared at him. Ophelia already knew that Will was in love—why the hell would he be on the _Dutchman_ otherwise?! But the way Jack was looking at her made her feel as if he was trying to say something else that he couldn't say otherwise.

"Due to be married!" exclaimed Jack, resuming his speech. "Betrothed." With this word, he looked away from Ophelia and began circling around Jones, as if in an attempt to get into Jones's head. "Dividing him from her and her from him would only be half as cruel as actually allowing them to be joined in holy matrimony… eh?"

Ophelia stared at Jones to see if Jack's words would have any effect on them… Jones looked lost in thought, or possibly past memories. For a moment, she began to wonder if Jack might've been able to change his mind—

But then, Jones whirled around and exclaimed, "I keep the boy, ninety-nine souls."

With these words, Ophelia felt a sob tearing through her throat. She knew she couldn't hold it back—but when it finally escaped, what came out of her mouth was not a sob at all.

"Ninety-eight!"

Both Jack and Jones swerved to stare at her. Ophelia stood tall, realizing that she meant exactly what she said.

"What?" asked Jack, his face betraying only the slightest of surprise.

Taking a deep breath, Ophelia responded, "Ninety-eight souls, Jack. I'm going over to the _Dutchman._ "

"Uh, no. Nuh-uh. **_Out_** of the question!"

"Oh, shove off, Jack!" exclaimed Ophelia, ripping the arm he'd snaked around her shoulders away from her. Jack looked shocked at her action, and even more so when she reiterated, "I'm going to the _Dutchman,_ whether you like it or not. Now you can either have my soul appraised to help settle your debt, or you can be a stubborn **_ass!_** Pick!"

Jack stared at her and staggered backwards a step. For a split second in time, he looked vulnerable—but as soon as the moment arrived, it vanished. He regained his old swagger and sauntered forward, a half of a leer on his face. "Very well, Olivia. I guess I'll just have to send you off in my name, then! Eh! Jonsey! How many souls is this little cupcake worth?"

"I. Am not. A **_cupcake,_** " growled Ophelia, but she was unheard. She merely glared at Jack before returning her attention to Jones, who was appraising her. She crossed her arms defensively, feeling unbearably vulnerable. Her gaze landed on her sword, which was still strewn atop the deck, and wished that she could retrieve it.

And then he answered, "Fifty."

" ** _What?!_** " shouted both Jack and Ophelia—and practically everyone else who comprised of the _Pearl's_ crew. Jack and Ophelia shared an incredulous glance for a moment before staring, bug-eyed, at Jones.

Jack opened his mouth as if to ask something, but Jones interrupted him. "Fifty souls she's worth, Sparrow, and I'll not have you negotiating the price! You either give her up and live with your self-disgust, or you keep her and risk your own life. Your choice."

Ophelia was still staring at Jones, she was so astonished. The Captain of the _Dutchman_ was back to his menacing self, looming intimidatingly over both her and the Captain of the _Pearl._ Still, she couldn't help but wonder about the man… what had he done to become such a creature? Who was he really? And why was she worth fifty souls to him?!

She was dying to ask… but she dared not.

Instead, she looked to Jack to see what he would say. After a second, Jack sauntered over to Ophelia and exclaimed, "Well, then! I'd say you've been useful indeed, lassie. Just like I said you would."

"Why, you—!" Ophelia lunged out to smack him, but Jack just seized her wrist and leaned close to her ear.

"Remember what I said," he whispered, and then he released her and sprinted away.

"Oh, well that's a fat lot of help!" shouted Ophelia, glaring daggers at Jack.

He just shrugged and smirked before looking to Jones. "So! Jonesy. We've got a debt of forty-nine souls, then, do we?"

Jones snorted. "Forty-nine, and no less! But I wonder, Sparrow… can yeh **_live_** with this? Can you condemn an innocent man, a **_friend,_** and the woman you've **_clearly_** begun to appreciate, to a lifetime of servitude while you roam free?" He jut his chin out at Jack with this last, as if enticing Jack to reconsider.

If he wanted Jack to back out of the deal, his hopes were sorely misplaced. The Captain of the _Pearl_ wasted no time in replying, "Yep! I'm good with it. Should we seal it in blood? I mean… ink?"

With these words, Jones's tentacle lunged out and apprehended Jack's. Ophelia stared as Jones did something that caused the black spot on Jack's hand to disappear.

"Three days," mused Jones, a smirk on his face. The rest of his crew started chuckling, as if they'd already sealed Jack's fate.

Ophelia simply stared around the _Pearl_ as the reality of what she'd done began to hit her. She would be leaving Jack and Gibbs and the others so she could protect Will from the unknown tortures that would surely be waiting for them.

 _I have sacrificed my happiness for him,_ thought Ophelia to remind herself of her promise. _I will give him my life too if I must…_

With that reminder, she took a deep breath and turned towards Jones, who was glaring at her, clearly waiting. She shuffled forward, picked up her sword, and started towards her new Captain—

"Wait!" exclaimed Jack.

Ophelia froze where she was and whirled around to see him speed-walking toward her. He glanced at the montage of emotions on her face and sighed, "I'm sorry it had to end this way."

"As am I," she replied, nodding sadly. At this point, Ophelia was no longer full of rage—what was done was done, and there was no changing it. She did not want her last memory of Jack to be tainted… and so she calmly sighed, "Good luck, Jack. If by some miracle you **_do_** end up finding forty-nine other souls to pay your debt, perhaps I'll see you again. And **_if_** I do, you can bet your sorry behind that I'll have a few things to say to you."

Jack grinned, the mad grin that he was known for. "I look forward to the day, Ophelia."

She laughed. "You got my name right."

He shrugged and backed away with a greatly exaggerated bow. But he said nothing else, merely saluting instead of speaking.

Sure that this was the end of the conversation—the last encounter she'd have with Jack, the man she dared to call a friend—Ophelia waved farewell and turned back to the shadows on the edge of the rail. Jones was still impatiently waiting there; seeing her glance at him, he snapped, "Well, we don't have all day, wench."

Ophelia glared at the creature, who looked amused by her irritation. She held her head high as she stalked forward, past the crew of the _Dutchman,_ all of whom were staring at her. But before she walked across the plank that would lead her to the dread ship, she stopped right in front of Jones, glared at him, and declared, "Call me what you will, **_Captain,_** I am still not afraid of you."

"Oh?" he asked, his eyes widening mockingly. "And why is that?"

Smirking, she answered, "Because I am worth fifty souls to you. At half of Jack Sparrow's cost, there must be reason for it. You won't hurt me."

"No, but I can damn well hurt that whelp!" he shouted. "Let's see how insubordinate you are when I make yeh hear him scream!"

Despite how unnerving this comment was, Ophelia only laughed and continued to move forward. It was hard, however, to remain as impassive as perhaps she should've.

Only a few steps forward, she was walking across a flimsy piece of wood to the other ship—over her shoulder, she heard Jack shout, "Good luck with her, Jonesy! She's a wily one!"

"Thanks, Jack!" she laughed—she heard him chuckle in turn and could've sworn he murmured, "Anything for you, love."

But of course, she could not respond, and could only press on.

There were a few feet that left Ophelia completely alone in pitch-blackness. She had to blindly grope for a railing that would hopefully lead her onto the _Dutchman_ and not the ocean… The rocking waves were not helping her balance, or her queasy stomach. Luckily, within another minute, she felt the solidness of wood underneath her feet again.

For better or worse, she'd made it onto the dread ship.

The moment she stepped foot on it, however, she was shoved mercilessly backwards, straight into someone's steady arms.

"There!" spat Jones's voice. "You're reunited with that whelp. Are yeh happy now?!"

Ophelia glared at the Captain and only raised her head. "Happy is a relative term, Captain. Perhaps you should have asked me if I were satisfied."

"You are in no position to be smart-mouthing me! In case yeh forget, I still have the power to make you **_miserable!_** " he retorted. He then stormed off to the center of his crew, leaving Ophelia scowling at the creature with malice.

As Jones began commanding his crew to attend to the ship, Ophelia felt the pair of arms on her arms press her close. "What are you doing here, Ophie?" whispered Will's voice. "What did you **_do?_** "

Despite how angry and betrayed she felt at the current situation, Ophelia managed to look Will in the eye. He looked both relieved, yet terrified—it was clear that his last wish was for Ophelia to end up on the _Dutchman,_ enslaved.

With a sigh, she relayed, "Jack betrayed us, Will. He sold our souls to the _Dutchman_ to square a debt he had with Jones. He still needs forty-nine more to completely level that debt, too… I volunteered to come in his name. I could not leave you alone."

Will sighed and put a hand on the side of her face, graveness in his gaze. "You should not have come. I have hardly been here longer than you, but already I have seen the cruelty this ship is run under."

" ** _Turner!_** "

Both Will and Ophelia whirled around to see Jones storming towards them. "Did you hear my instructions?! On the mast!"

Will glared at Jones and squeezed Ophelia's arm before trudging toward the mast, knowing that to disobey would mean fierce punishment.

Ophelia watched him go sadly. This was not what she had in mind for him… not at all. She had expected him to be happily married by this time, not enslaved underneath the most terrible legend of the sea.

Her attention, however, was seized by Jones, who stormed toward her, a threat in his eyes. He simply glared at her for a moment until Ophelia swallowed the rage in her throat and forced herself to meekly ask, "What do you want me to do… Captain."

"Nothing!" he spat. "Just do not mess anything up!"

Ophelia blinked and suddenly realized he was walking away. Wondering if perhaps the creature had lost his mind, she called, "I know how to sail."

But Jones merely replied over her shoulder, "I know yeh do. I do not care. Just do not mess anything up," before stalking to the Captain's quarters, leaving Ophelia utterly confused about what she was doing on the _Dutchman_ at all.


	10. Chapter 9

Two days passed on the _Dutchman,_ and still Ophelia was not put to any sort of work. In fact, if anything, Jones **_refused_** to do so, even when she asked if there was anything she could do to help. This made her job of protecting and aiding Will difficult, as she only got to see him when his work was done. Both days thus far he had been too exhausted to spar or even talk.

On the other hand, she was able to introduce herself to the crew of the _Dutchman,_ many of whom were not anything like their Captain. Ophelia was thus able to retrieve information about the ship and the crew from a few select members—Clanker and Bootstrap were two whom she found a relatively good solace with. For some reason, Bootstrap was oddly familiar…

The second night of their enslavement, Ophelia was going to introduce Will to the two. She wondered if perhaps they might help protect him from any future wrath of the Captain; she figured it was worth a shot.

When Will returned, however, he was clearly worn out. His hands were bleeding, and there were large purple welts on his neck and collarbone.

Ophelia gaped and sprinted to him, immediately sitting him down on a stair. "What happened to you?" she gasped, frantically appraising the wounds.

He laughed and shook his head. "Do not concern yourself, Ophelia. I only need to rest."

"You **_need_** to get off this ship!" exclaimed she, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. Will winced at the gesture, however, and she quickly removed it. It saddened Ophelia to gaze upon him… She quickly applied a salt salve on his hands, but she knew there wouldn't be enough time for his hands to heal before he was expected to return to work. Softly, she asked, "Do you need anything?"

"Thirty minutes' rest," exhaled Will—he slumped over and was promptly asleep.

Seeing him, Ophelia felt tears well in her eyes. He'd never once been so taxed, not a day in his life, and he had worked one of the hardest trades in Port Royal. The reality of what Jack had done returned to her; Ophelia felt herself broil with rage and betrayal—she now wished she had slapped him at least one more time before she left the _Pearl._

Her rage immediately vanished upon gazing at Will's face again. She knew his breaks were an hour long, and that he would sleep through half of it and spend the other precious thirty minutes talking with her. But seeing him, Ophelia figured it would be more beneficial to Will if he slept the entire hour.

For fifteen minutes, she sat, gently pressing the salves over Will's hands. She wished she could do more—even working with Will under those strenuous conditions would be better than this.

"Contemplating, missy?" asked a growly voice. "Seems yer regrettin' comin' aboard now, ain't ya?"

Ophelia sighed, knowing it was Clanker. His tone of voice was joking, but the topic was dead serious. Because of this, she had no idea what to say.

"Tis a simple yes o' no question, missy," laughed Clanker.

"There was no choice," retorted Ophelia, narrowing her eyes and glaring at him out of the corner of her eye. "Not for us. You know this."

"Aye. I do."

"Then what do you hope to take out of this conversation?" questioned Ophelia, trying to restrain the smirk that threatened to come over her face. "There is nothing else to say, is there?"

Clanker merely chuckled, though with how much sea life his body was comprised of, that was a raspy sound, and not one at all that sounded human. "The question was me tryin' ter ask if yeh need anything, missy. Tis been a long time since the crew has felt gentleness. Many want ter preserve that."

Ophelia sighed and looked down at Will. "If there's anything you can do for him… then it would practically be done for me."

Slowly, her crewmate nodded. "Aye. We'll do our best. Just be sure that the Captain don't know 'bout this. He won't take kindly ter it."

"I am not afraid of him," growled Ophelia. "He hasn't hurt us thus far."

Clanker's eyes widened as he whispered, "Don' put it past him. Yeh've only been here two days… The Captain seems ter have found no need for yeh yet, but yeh can bet that he will. Soon enough he'll be as rough with yeh as he is the rest o' us here. If yeh ain't afraid o' him yet, yeh will be."

And with that, he nodded and walked away, leaving Ophelia wondering why she was treated differently than everyone else, and when her first sentence would be.

* * *

The full hour of Will's break passed. As Ophelia had expected, he spent the whole time of it sleeping… but when Jones roared for Will to return to his post, she reluctantly had to wake him.

When Will's eyes opened, she smiled sadly at him and murmured, "The Captain wants you back at your post."

"Has it been an hour?" he exclaimed, his beautiful brown eyes wide.

Ophelia nodded sadly. "I'm sorry, Will… I wish there was something I could do to prolong the time."

"No, no… I cannot believe I slept the entire time…" Will looked nothing short of tormented; the expression stabbed at Ophelia's heart. "Ophie, you should have woken me. I hardly have any time to talk to you now."

Laughing softly, Ophelia shook her head and replied, "You need to regain your strength as often as you can, Will. Do not worry about me. I worry more about you. We shall find time to talk to each other when we can."

Before Will could respond, they both heard the familiar clumping that signaled the Captain was nearing their spot. Hearing it, Will immediately shot up, kissed Ophelia's hand, and launched back to his post so neither of them would be punished.

The Captain arrived mere seconds after Will disappeared. He looked only slightly surprised to find only Ophelia there—snorting, he asked, "The whelp returned to his post, then?"

"Yes," retorted Ophelia, daring to glare at Jones.

Jones seemed to notice this slight spark of rebellion; but he seemed amused by it as opposed to angered, something that Ophelia found quite odd. As it was, he only snickered before shaking his head and turning around—

"Captain!" Ophelia found herself calling at his back. Jones stopped walking, but did not face her. She used this opportunity to again request, "Can I do anything to help the crew?"

In answer, she heard a heaving sigh and an exasperated, "Why d'yeh desire to work so badly? D'yeh enjoy pain?"

"No, but if I am to be on this ship, I may as well have a purpose."

"It appears teh me that your self-appointed purpose is to watch over that whelp," returned the Captain evenly. He finally swerved around to face Ophelia; his expression was unreadable. It unnerved her beyond belief.

Somehow, however, Ophelia managed to swallow and say, "Yes, I know. But I am not given much opportunity to do so whilst parted from him like this."

Jones snorted and stomped forward, a look of disbelief on his face. Ophelia stepped backward once, but she refused to let herself quail under his contemptuous gaze.

After staring her down, however, the Captain merely laughed and exclaimed, "Fine, then! Yeh can join young Master Turner on the mast, if yoehso desire. But when yeh melt from the pressure of the work, no mercy shall await yeh!"

Ophelia raised her chin and defiantly glared at the Captain. That was all she allowed herself to do before spinning on her heel and jogging to her new post.

Once she reached the mast, she pushed aside a couple crew members to reach Will. Her dearest friend did not notice her coming until she was helping to yank a rope that was attached to a cannon.

"Ophelia!" cried Will, his eyes wide. "What are you doing!"

"Helping!" she grunted as she pulled. The cannon moved a decent amount; she was lucky it had wheels. Seeing that she was working, Clanker moved over to help her.

Will swallowed. "This is not what I wanted for you," he whispered.

Clanker and Ophelia hauled the cannon where the Bosun directed it. After that was done, she sighed and moved forward to Will before replying, "This is not what I wanted for you either, Will. I wanted to see you happy by now."

Will sighed, not quite sure what to say. His brown eyes gazed over Ophelia's face for a little while until he merely murmured, "Just be careful, Ophie. **_Please._** "

Ophelia, seeing this, nodded. "I will."

It didn't seem Will could say anything else. He just swallowed and continued heaving the rope, moving the cannon to its new place on the ship.

Two hours passed, and before long, there was only one more cannon that needed to be moved. The only problem was that this would be the hardest to relocate; it had to go up by the wheel, which meant the crew would need to haul the heavy artillery into the air.

Ophelia sighed heavily when she was told this… Although she was not anywhere close to quitting, her hands were bloody and raw, which made her all but useless to the rest of the crew. Clanker had tried to find a cloth for her to tie around her hands, but it didn't help much.

Will, seeing her soak her hands in a barrel of salt water, moved over and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure the Captain wouldn't mind if you took a break," he mumbled.

But Ophelia shook her head in protest. "No, Will. I won't look like a weak fool. Not after I worked so hard to be by your side."

And with that, she removed her hands from the water, the cuts stinging from contact with oxygen and salt, and marched back to the crew. Will, left with no other choice, followed her.

With a renewed force, Ophelia heaved the rope as best as she could. She would **_not_** back out now.

Suddenly, however, a voice screamed, "Secure the mast, Mr. Turner!"

Both Ophelia and Will whirled around to face the mast. There was a loose rope that needed to be tied down immediately.

Will launched up the staircase and nearly collided with another man. Ophelia continued working where she was, though she watched Will beadily. She noticed that Bootstrap was attempting to help…

But he let go of the rope.

Will, not expecting this, cried out and was yanked to the floor as the rope ascended and the cannon began to fall. Ophelia looked up and noticed that it was heading straight for him—

" ** _No!_** " she shrieked, barreling up the stairs. Her hands still bloody, she seized Will's arm and, with all the power she had left, dragged him away from the cannon's path.

The cannon smashed into the deck two seconds after she and Will were clear of its path. The wood cracked and splintered, some of it showering over them.

There was a dead silence as everyone simply stared at the fallen weapon. But then, there was the expected, if not dreaded, command.

"Haul that weevil to his feet!"

It was the Bosun. Ophelia recognized his voice immediately… As always, it was cruel and full of anticipation. She knew that punishment would be enacted.

"No!" she shouted again, standing in front of the Bosun. "It was my fault. I should've helped him!"

"Out o' the way, female!" the Bosun snarled. "Twas not your command. Move!"

Ophelia, however, stood resolutely in front of Will. For a moment, she and the Bosun glared at each other.

"Ophelia," said Will's voice, breaking the silence. "Please move. This was not your doing. I would have died without you. Do not let my repayment be punishment."

Before Ophelia could say anything, Will got to his feet and gently moved her aside. His eyes fell upon her scarlet hands—with a sad smile, he turned to Clanker and said, "Please get something for her hands," before facing the wrath of the Bosun.

"Will!" hissed Ophelia, but she was unheard.

Seeing that Will was waiting for his sentence, the Bosun shoved him into the awaiting arms of other crew members and roared, "Five lashes will remind you to stay on it!"

"No!" shouted a voice—Ophelia looked over to see it was Bootstrap.

"Impeding me in my duties?" demanded the Bosun, a whip curled in his hand. Ophelia choked. She wouldn't be able to bear it if she were to watch Will be whipped. "You'll share the punishment!"

"I'll take it all," contradicted Bootstrap.

Ophelia blinked somewhat. Bootstrap had always seemed like one of the kinder crewmates, but she never expected him to volunteer for punishment.

" ** _Will_** yeh, now?" asked an incredulous voice. It was the Captain's.

Ophelia sidestepped towards Will. She did not know what was about to happen, but she feared for Will's well-being… She put a hand on his arm, and they exchanged looks. Ophelia knew that look—Will was entering a mode of protection. She wished she could do the same, but the fact was if the Bosun or the Captain wanted Will penalized, there would be little she could do to help him.

Seeing the resolve on Bootstrap's face, Jones sneered and asked, "And what would prompt this act of charity?!"

"My son," replied Bootstrap instantly. He turned to Will and, with a pained expression upon his face, repeated, "He's my son."

Will froze, his grip on Ophelia's arm suddenly painfully tight. She knew what he was thinking—it was impossible. Will's father had been lost at sea many long years ago.

And yet, with each double-take that Ophelia made, she could see more and more of a resemblance between the two. Their face shape, their nose; and when Bootstrap smiled slightly, as if perhaps hoping to save his son, she saw that their smiles were the same.

Jones seemed to notice the similarities as well… He soon began chuckling, as if the whole idea of family was comical. As it was, he guffawed, "What **_fortuitous_** circumstance be this! I find this all **_very_** coincidental. It appears we have two families reunited aboard this blasted ship."

"Two?" asked Ophelia, glaring at Jones. She hoped she could stall the Captain, make him forget about Will's reprimand.

The Captain swiveled towards her; sharp was his gaze, but Ophelia wouldn't let herself flinch.

He stomped towards her, seeming almost enraged as he spat, "Yes, **_two!_** How d'yeh **_think_** I knew about your scar? Because I gave it to yeh."

Ophelia blinked, not fazed. She wouldn't let herself be fazed. He was attempting to manipulate her. She knew this game. And so she declared, "You did not."

"Give me yer hand, then."

"No."

"Give it to me or that boy will get ten lashes as opposed to five!"

Ophelia, furious, thrust her left hand out, making sure to narrow her eyes and fill it with a fire as hot as the one that would burn in the forge whenever she and Will would work.

Jones seized it, not caring to be gentle. Ophelia glared at him as he removed the bandages that were sticking to her hand; when finally they were gone, he thrust her hand close to her face and spat, "There! There's yer proof!"

Glowering, Ophelia growled through clenched teeth, "What proof is that?"

"I gave that scar to yeh myself! Yeh want proof? Give me yer right hand."

Knowing that Will's punishment lay in the balance, Ophelia obeyed. She gasped as Jones mercilessly sliced his lobster claw into the skin on her hand—as soon as he cut it, however, he thrust it back at her and roared, "Now look at it!"

Ophelia did so and immediately knew this was no trick.

A lightning-shaped scar, inky black, was mingled with blood from the cut on her right hand just as there was on her left.

"No…" she murmured, shaking her head. "No, this can't be it—how did you know about this! Who **_are_** you?!"

Jones merely laughed derisively. "I see in yer eyes that yeh've already put it together, **_Ophelia._** Not the name I would've chosen, but yer mother was always stubborn."

Ophelia didn't know what to say. There was a lump in her throat that she was sure she would choke on. She watched as Jones's mouth opened again and felt oddly numb as she heard him say, "Yer my daughter, Bennett."

Then he clumped a step back, leaving her staring, wide-eyed, at the floor of the deck. Seeing this, Jones chuckled before shouting, "Now, Bootstrap! Five lashes to yer brat! Don't think I've forgotten about his punishment."

* * *

 _Hello to everyone who's reading! I just wanted to apologize for the delay in this chapter posting... It's been hectic back at college again, and I'm doing my best to keep up! I also would like to thank you for reading and following this story, and for leaving comments for me. It means a lot! Thank you!_

 _~Avalain Nightshade_


	11. Chapter 10

Ophelia's heart hurt as she could only watch Will be whipped. There was nothing she could say or do. She knew this as soon as she saw the malicious glee in Jones's eyes when he claimed to be her father.

She didn't believe it. She couldn't believe it.

She **_wouldn't_** believe it.

Will's form collapsed to the ground. After a split second of blankness, Ophelia suddenly felt rushed back into her body, and all her worry and care for Will flooded her at once.

"Will!" she gasped, dropping to her knees and carefully holding his face. She dared to glimpse at the damage done to his back—it was horrendous, to be sure. Streaks of red lined his back, and varying shades of red decorated it like a painting. The color was scarlet where the cuts were deepest.

Ophelia glared at Bootstrap, but seeing the man's broken expression, her anger faded. She knew he hadn't wanted to do it. Jones had made him.

How could a creature such as he be a father to **_anybody_**?

"Come on, Will," she murmured. "Put your arm around my shoulder. Can you walk? I'm going to get you under the stairs. I'll take care of you."

Will mumbled something that sounded remotely like, "Ophie," but Ophelia couldn't be sure that was it. She didn't bother asking him what it was. Her first and main concern was to get him under the deck so she could tend to his wounds and ensure they wouldn't become infected.

This, however, was easier said than done. It was clear that Will was in great pain and therefore incapable of supporting his own weight even for the twenty feet it was to the deck. Ophelia ended up more-or-less carrying him, seeing as nobody else wanted to risk facing the Captain's wrath if they were to aid.

At last, she did it. Carefully she splayed towels underneath Will and laid him on his stomach under the stairs of the deck. Once that was done, she scoured for a bucket and a washcloth only to find that the bucket was filled with salt water.

With a sigh, she knew it would have to do. It would pain him, but it would get the job done.

Gingerly, Ophelia began her work. For better or worse, Will was unconscious. At least he could not feel any extra pain due to the salt seeping through his injuries.

When she was close to finished with this task, however, there was a loud _clump!_ due to something being dropped beside her. Startled, Ophelia whirled to look at it—it was another bucket, also filled with water.

The person who brought it said softly, "This is not seawater. Bathe his cuts in that after you're done. It will wash away any extra salt that will pain him."

Ophelia nodded at Bootstrap's suggestion and began to reach for the bucket—

"Actually," he exclaimed suddenly, "if it would be alright with you, I think I'll take over from here."

On the one hand, Ophelia wanted to see for herself that the job was done right. She didn't want anything to go wrong, not with Will. On the other, Bootstrap was Will's father, and despite the cruel act he performed, he had been forced to. One look at him now told her that this man did care about his son.

And so Ophelia nodded and murmured, "Be careful," before handing him the cloth and heading back to her position.

When she returned and continued hauling ropes, she couldn't help but notice that the rest of the crew was stealing side-glances at her. It was like they were trying to scrutinize every detail of her face, attempting to see if she had any similarities with Jones. They seemed astonished by her; fascinated, even. This was an odd change, seeing as beforehand the crew either bullied her or tried to be gentle.

Now it seemed as if they were just **_scared_** of her.

Ophelia sighed. She still didn't believe it. A scar from long ago meant nothing. Perhaps her real father had been at sea with her when she was young and Jones had intercepted her. Maybe the similarities regarding the shape and size of the cuts on her hand were pure coincidence. Perhaps this was devil magic.

But those were weak excuses, and Ophelia knew it.

All the same, she just couldn't accept it.

These disturbing thoughts propelled her to rage, which ultimately led her to perform her tasks admirably. Somehow, she managed to finish hauling the last cannon up to the deck with only two other crewmates… the Bosun, who didn't appear impressed or even bothered in any way by her supposed parentage, and Clanker, who'd taken it upon himself to be as close to a father figure as he could for her.

Once this task was done, the Bosun faced her and grunted with what Ophelia **_hoped_** was approval. Apparently it was, because he then said, "You've earned your break. Go check on the whelp if you must."

Grateful, she nodded and rushed off toward the deck again. Over the past three hours she had worked, she had been worried about Will's condition. Anxiously, she reached the stairs—

And found Jones standing, waiting for her.

Ophelia swallowed, but it did nothing to rid herself of the lump in her throat. Bootstrap and Will were both gone; the only sign of them was the bloodstained towel that Ophelia had laid Will upon.

"I figured yeh'd be here," chortled the Captain, obviously amused.

She said nothing.

"I thought we might have a little chat," he continued. "There are some… things I should explain."

"You don't have to explain anything to me," retorted Ophelia, narrowing her eyes. She didn't want to have this discussion. If they did, it might only hammer her doubt into a harsh reality, and she was not ready for that. "Let me guess, I was the bastard daughter that resulted from a night at a tavern on one of the days you were able to step upon land."

Jones snorted, either amused or insulted by her assumption, and Ophelia didn't care which.

"Nay," he ended up responding. "It runs deeper than that."

"Of course it does," she muttered in return. She placed a hand to her forehead and sighed. Things would've been much easier and certainly much less confusing if nothing had been said. And so she asked, "Why? Why now? You abandoned me for twenty-three years. Why say it at all?"

"Do not expect me to have an answer fer that, wench!" exclaimed Jones. "The best I can tell yeh is yer mother, Catharine, would have wanted it."

Ophelia remembered snippets of her mother through early memories. She always smelled like cinnamon. She wore brown blouses, often made of wool or some other scratchy material. She was warm.

But then she'd died, and this was all Ophelia could remember.

"Did you love her?" she questioned. Somehow, this was the question that came first to mind. It just seemed the most important. She hoped her mother might have been happy whilst with her "father."

Her spirits sank when Jones replied, "Love her? No."

"Then what the hell am I to you?" sighed Ophelia, not removing her hand from her forehead. This was not what she had imagined finding her long-lost father would be like. This was not what she had wanted.

Jones sighed, becoming irritated. "Yeh are still my… daughter. And I did not want yeh near that blackguard Sparrow. Yeh're mine, not his."

This last sentence made Ophelia's nostrils flare. As angry as she was with Jack for his betrayal, she was angrier with this creature for being so blunt and nearly sending her into shock. So she retorted, "I belong to no one save myself. You deserted your claim to me when you abandoned my mother and sailed away, never to see her again. As you refused to acknowledge me as your daughter, so I have the right to refuse you as my father. Jack was once my friend, though I despise him now. Do not make me despise you as well."

Ophelia turned on her heels, ready to leave. But just before she could, she heard the Captain say, "Yeh're forgetting something crucial. How yeh received your scar."

"What about it?"

"I gave it to yeh mere days after you were born. Catharine sent me news of yer birth and I returned to see. Why d'yeh **_think_** I look like this?"

To prove his point, Jones stepped toward her. Up close, Ophelia was able to see vaguely humanoid aspects about him; the shape of his face, the color of his eyes, and most frighteningly of all, the sincerity within them.

"I broke the rules of my curse for the two of yeh, and I paid fer it dearly. Keep **_that_** in mind the next time yeh doubt me."

Ophelia, unsure what else to do, wasted no time hustling away from the Captain. She wasn't sure what was more horrifying; the fact that she could no longer doubt that Jones was her father, or the idea that she had been the one to make him the way he looked today.

Her breaths shallow, she retreated underneath the deck to her hammock, where hopefully she would sleep away the weight in her stomach she'd acquired from all the news of the day.

* * *

When Ophelia woke up, she was covered in a pale sheen of sweat. She didn't remember what she'd dreamed about, but she **_did_** recall the last conversation she'd had before her nap. Perhaps that was why she was so on edge.

She sighed and sat up only to hear a familiar voice ask, "Ophelia?"

Sharply, she turned and looked to the bench beside her hammock. Sure enough, Will was sitting there, although his posture looked vaguely uncomfortable. The memories of his whipping flooded her mind, and the first strangled question that exited her mouth was, "How are you feeling?"

He chuckled and replied, "Based on how fitfully you were sleeping, I was about to ask the same question. I am better… what about you?"

"I…"

Ophelia trailed off. She didn't know **_how_** she was feeling, other than scared and mildly disappointed.

Will seemed to notice this. "I know. I understand, believe me."

She smiled. Will always understood.

"He tried to explain things to me," Ophelia found herself confessing. "Like how he attempted to return to land for me. They all look this way because of that."

Guilt gnawed at her stomach, making her sigh and recline back in her hammock. Perhaps things might have been easier for everyone if she had never been born.

Will seemed to notice this, too. He rose and stiffly walked over to her hammock before grasping her hand and murmuring, "That was not of your making. That was a decision made by the Captain of this ship. You have no fault here, Ophie. Don't deceive yourself into thinking that you do."

Normally she would've been reassured by Will, but this time, she was not. This was something more sinister, more severe, than anything else they'd previously encountered. This was a curse upon her father and all his crew.

"Come on," she heard her friend say. "Let's go up to the deck. We've both got some time off, as I understand it. And that's rare nowadays."

Ophelia smiled. **_That_** was certainly true enough, and she didn't wish to squander her opportunity to spar or even speak with Will now that she was able to. So she took the hand that he offered her and moved to head on deck.

When they arrived, they saw that it was near dark, and that the _Dutchman_ was sailing on calm waters. Because these amiable conditions did not require all of the crew to be stationed, most of them were sitting about, with cups pressed down over something… when they were raised, Ophelia saw that it was dice.

Will led her to stand beside Bootstrap… Will's father. It was still odd to acknowledge, albeit much easier than her relation with Jones. Besides, Bootstrap had always been kind to her, whereas the Captain—not so much.

"What are they doing?" she asked Bootstrap, curious. Clanker, Maccus, and the Bosun sat in a triangle, each of them holding cups over dice, discreetly looking at their own hands. Everyone else was hovering over them, almost as if they'd placed a bet on the outcome of the game.

"They're playing Liar's Dice," replied Bootstrap. He too was invested.

Will nodded. "A game of deception," he elaborated to Ophelia, who was not very familiar with games of the sort. "The difference with this game is that your bet includes all the dice, not just your own."

After seeing Ophelia nod, he asked Bootstrap, "What are they wagering?"

Bootstrap chuckled and responded, "The only thing we have… years of service."

Ophelia watched as the three competitors finally removed the cups from surrounding their dice. She couldn't help but giggle somewhat as Clanker and the Bosun began guffawing at the misfortune of Jones's first mate.

It appeared there was a loser.

"So any crew member can be challenged?" asked Will then.

Bootstrap nodded, a slight smile on his face. Ophelia couldn't help but smile as well. Signs of joy were rare on the _Dutchman,_ but she felt like they were existent because of Bootstrap or Clanker.

That smile vanished instantly, however, when she heard Will exclaim, "I challenge Davy Jones."

She inhaled sharply and unintentionally grasped his arm, her nails digging into his shirt. Her eyes wide, she stared at him in panic. What was he attempting to **_do,_** get himself killed?

As it was, Ophelia wasn't the only one who'd gone dead silent. The entire crew had, in fact—but after a few seconds of that uncomfortable quietness, the Bosun and some of the crueler members of the _Dutchman_ began to laugh.

As if they already knew what awaited him.

Before anyone could say anything, a _CLUMP_ could be heard from the helm. Ophelia knew that sound. It was the sound of the Captain's lobster-reminiscent legs, walking towards the rest of his crew.

 _Clump. Clump. Clump._

And then he was in view, and suddenly the weather was no longer benign, or perhaps it was simply Ophelia's terrified perception on the world. Her heart leapt to her throat again. She still hadn't recuperated from their discussion earlier.

Jones smirked, positively sinister, his beady gaze on Will's face. Then, as if relishing in the audacity of the challenge, he said, "I accept, mate."

Not another second was wasted before the crew of the _Dutchman_ scrambled to get a table, two cups, and ten dice ready. In no time at all it was set.

The game was ready to play.

Seeing Will sitting on the barrel provided, Jones inquired, "The stakes?"

"My soul," answered Will, perfectly calmly. "An eternity of servitude."

" ** _Will!_** " hissed Ophelia. This was much worse than him getting himself killed. She was immensely worried of course, but admittedly she was also angry. He was **_not_** making her job of protecting him easy.

Will only spared her a sad smile, which both saddened and infuriated her.

"Against?" snarled the Captain.

Digging into his pockets, Will retorted, "I want this." And he tossed down the cloth that Jack had given him; the cloth with the key to Davy Jones's heart upon it.

Jones picked up the cloth and almost immediately slammed it back onto the table. Ophelia peered closely at him and saw, for the briefest moment, a glance of human vulnerability in his eyes. It was undoubtedly there in his voice when she heard him whisper, "How do you know of the key?"

"That's not part of the game, is it?" returned Will cryptically, raising an eyebrow. He leaned back as far as he could, proving that he felt perfectly at ease. "You can still walk away."

But the Captain, loath to walk away and appear cowardly, reluctantly descended upon the barrel and sat, facing his opponent. Glaring, he used one of his tentacles upon his face to reach within the rest, and he pulled out the very key that Will and Ophelia were upon the _Dutchman_ to steal.

Will remained perfectly composed, but he stole a glance at Ophelia.

She knew exactly what he was thinking.

At this point, they began to shake the cups with the dice within. Ophelia exchanged a panicked glance with Bootstrap, and at once they came to the same conclusion—they had to join. They wouldn't let Will face this alone.

And so, they both scooped up a cup and five dice and slammed them upon the table.

Jones and Will blinked and stared at the two of them.

"What is the meaning of this?!" roared Jones, glaring maliciously.

"We're in," replied Ophelia calmly. "I am matching Will's wager."

"Ophie, **_no!_** " shouted Will, obviously exasperated. "This is not your fight."

"It is if it involves you, damn you," she muttered, narrowing her eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you that, you rash, thick-headed…" But she couldn't finish her sentence. For all the annoyance and worry that Will might cause her, she still loved him.

She expected Will to say something in return, but much to everyone's surprise, it was Jones who spat, "No, Bennett. You will **_not_** be playing."

Ophelia was shocked. She stared at Jones and was startled to see concern within his gaze. From all her previous encounters with him, she had never thought to see such expression within him, especially not after their most recent exchange.

But here they were.

"I second that," exclaimed Will, the same look in his eyes as was in Jones's.

It was incredibly unnerving to have them both gazing at her so. She didn't know what to say. Luckily, Bootstrap came to her rescue by declaring, "The die has already been cast, and our wages set. It is too late to turn back now."

It took a moment for those words to sink in. But once they did, Jones just snorted and looked away while Will softly whispered to Ophelia, "This was not what I meant to happen…"

The statement was so ironic that Ophelia giggled, of all things.

"Oh, Will," she sighed, shaking her head. "All our plans went to pot whenever Jack betrayed us. This is not what I wanted for you either. But now we must make do with the cards we've been dealt… and gamble for better where we can."

She looked around only to see the crew was staring at her, some in respect, some in incredulity. Even the Bosun seemed mildly impressed, something she was not expecting to see.

"So…" began Will hesitantly, "we have four players?" This last was said with a glance at his father, as if hoping that at least either he or Ophelia would back down.

If this was his hope, however, it was dashed when Bootstrap nodded and said, "Aye. Four players, three with the same wager."

Will sighed and leaned back, no longer as calm as he had appeared before.

Ophelia glanced around at her competitors. She knew that no matter what, Will could not lose. He still had a chance at a happy life, albeit a slim one.

She did not, and therefore, his success was worth more than hers.

With a deep breath, Ophelia huffed, "Well, are we going to play, then? I'd rather determine whether my soul will be sold for eternity sooner rather than later."


	12. Chapter 11

The die was set. Ophelia glanced at her own hand… she had three fives, a four, and a three.

She knew that the objective of the game was to successfully guess the greatest amount of a certain number that encompassed all four of the hands dealt. But the gods only knew what the other three held in their hand… she would have to guess based on the bids they would make.

This made her grateful that Ophelia was the last to bid—Bootstrap was the first. He took a moment to glance underneath the cup concealing his dice before announcing, "I bid three two's. It's your bid, Captain."

Jones scanned the contents of his hand before chortling, "Four four's."

The rest of the crew chuckled alongside him. Clearly, they would be rooting for the Captain… a wise decision on their part, thought Ophelia.

Next was Will's turn. He wasted no time in replying, "Four fives."

Ophelia exhaled. This was a very good guess, and it relieved her. But she knew she couldn't show it, lest the Captain catch onto it. She glanced at her hand again. Based on how confidently Will announced his guess, she figured he had at least two fives in his hand… perhaps even three like herself.

"Six five's," she declared. With twenty dice to consider, and at least three accounted for, she figured that out of the seventeen remaining, there would be at least three more five's.

It was back to Bootstrap again. He paused for a little while before sighing, "Six three's."

Ophelia was not sure why he guessed this. Perhaps he was waiting for a better understanding of the playing field.

The Captain did not seem to share the same strategy as Bootstrap, although he too took a moment before saying, "Seven five's."

And then it was Will's turn. He was quiet for only a few seconds before straightening his posture and enunciating, "Eight five's."

Ophelia withheld her gasp. She couldn't afford to betray her concern in such a high-stake game. The possibility that forty percent of the dice were five's was quite low…

As it was, Jones had no qualms with restraining his ominous mirth. In a low yet satisfied voice, he exclaimed, "Welcome to the crew, lad."

The rest of the _Dutchman's_ members sniggered with their Captain, which only increased Ophelia's apprehension. She did not want to end up enslaved upon the _Dutchman_ forever… but she wanted even less for Will to be.

 _I have sacrificed my happiness for him. I will give him my life too if I must._

"Ten five's."

Silence. And everyone's gaze shot to Ophelia's blank face as she stared straight ahead, refusing to look anyone in the eye as she felt the words trail off her tongue, leave her lips, hang in the air.

Seal her fate.

"Ophelia…"

It was Will. Of course it was. As much as she wanted to ignore him, she couldn't. She glanced at him and immediately knew it was a mistake. His brown eyes were wide and full of what she could only interpret as despair. He shook his head slowly, but only slightly, as if he wanted only her to see it.

"Ten five's," she repeated, tearing her eyes away from her dearest friend's face to glare challengingly at Jones and Bootstrap. "That is my bid. Will anyone call me a liar?"

With this last question, she directed herself straight toward Jones, as if inviting him to do so. And she would not have been surprised at all if he did—after all, what she was gambling was that half of the dice upon the table were a single number out of six.

It was a ludicrous guess… but Jones sat there and said nothing.

The silence returned, and for a moment in time, everyone sat awkwardly, just waiting for one of Ophelia's three competitors to shout, " ** _Liar!_** "

But what was said next was not that.

"Twelve five's."

Ophelia swerved so quickly she almost popped her neck. Now it was she who stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at Bootstrap, who had outdone her already doomed bid.

Will mirrored her look. Both of them were nothing short of astonished, of absolutely stunned. But Bootstrap just sat there and said again, quite clearly, "Twelve five's. Call me a liar, or up the bid."

With this, he too glanced at the Captain, inviting him to the end the game, just as Ophelia had done.

The difference was that this time, Jones did not sit silently. This time, he snorted and spat, "And be called a liar myself for my trouble? Reveal the hands!"

And it was done. It took a moment for everyone to glance over the twenty die cast upon the table. Ophelia was no exception—but when she saw what happened, she swallowed back a lump in her throat.

Ten five's were there on the table: three in her hand, four in Jones's, and three in Will's.

Inadvertently, she had guessed the greatest quantity of the highest number, and doomed Bootstrap to an eternity of service either way… the only thing was, he had taken it willingly. He didn't take the more believable route of calling her a liar.

He intentionally and knowingly decided to up her bid and spare her an eternity of servitude, knowing that the Captain would call him a liar.

Recognizing this, Ophelia barely registered the Captain sneering, "Bootstrap Bill, yeh're a liar and you will spend eternity on this ship! Bennett and Turner, feel free to go ashore… the very next time we make port!"

He burst into laughter then, as did the rest of the crew, and then he rose and turned to leave. Naturally, everyone else followed him, save Will and Bootstrap.

As soon as they were gone, Will launched off his barrel and ran to Ophelia's side of the table. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently but firmly forced her to look at him.

"Why," was all he said. But his eyes said much, much more. " ** _Why._** "

"I…" she began, but she stopped. She couldn't tell him the real reason. Of course she couldn't. She wouldn't bring upon him the guilt that she was currently feeling. So she only replied, "I don't know."

Will scoffed in dismay, but kissed her hand all the same.

Ophelia, however, barely felt the gesture. She felt immensely guilty… she knew there was a chance that Will or Bootstrap would have lost, but never did she expect for Bootstrap, out of all the competitors, to be the one to volunteer to take the loser's place.

This thought in mind, she turned to Bootstrap and asked the same question that Will had just asked her.

"Why?"

Bootstrap just smiled kindly at her and murmured, "You were willing to protect my son."

She looked at him sadly, feeling hollow. But as she looked at the man, she saw something else in his gaze. She saw a look of understanding; a look that told her that he knew. He knew how she felt about Will.

Somehow, she was not surprised at all.

Seeing that she was hardly comforted, the man then added, "He needs you."

This made her swallow back the lump in her throat. Almost hesitantly, she glanced towards Will, as if asking for confirmation.

Will smiled and placed a hand on the side of her face. "I do," he murmured softly. "I do need you. You're… Ophelia."

Ophelia couldn't help but wonder what he might have said, were Elizabeth not in the picture. Were Elizabeth not the reason they were here at all.

Despite how tempting it was to ask, to know how he might really have felt, Ophelia knew she could not dwell on it. The thought would only drive her mad. To keep her mind safe, she focused back on the task at hand. She looked at the two and whispered, "We know where the key is. Will, does your father know about… everything?"

Will nodded. "Aye, he does."

"Good. Then that saves the time it would take to explain. Will—you know we have to steal that key tonight, don't you?"

"Aye," he repeated, his face grave. It was clear that now that they knew where the key rested, their jobs only got harder from here. Whilst technically both he and Ophelia were free of the _Dutchman,_ as per the conditions of the game, there was still the matter of gaining the key, and of escaping the ship once they had it. "Now we have to figure out all the rest. I'll be the one to take the key," Will interjected before Ophelia could volunteer. " ** _That_** charge will be mine, and mine alone."

He glared pointedly at Ophelia as he said this. She just grinned.

"All right, fair enough," she responded, holding her hands in surrender. "Perhaps I can provide a distraction for the other crew members while you prepare our escape."

"Nay, I can do that," replied Bootstrap. "The weather is tame tonight. I can take the helm from whoever is on duty. That shall spare you the need for distraction."

Will jolted as his father's words and exclaimed, "No. You've already done so much."

Bootstrap merely chuckled. "You're my son. I will help however I can."

Ophelia couldn't help but smile at this warm interchange. She wondered if this might've been how she and Jones would have interacted, if they had met and spent years together during her childhood.

Sadly, that was not how things turned out. And so, she asked, "Then what shall I do?"

The two men exchanged looks before Will replied, "Actually, Ophelia… the best thing you might do is pretend to be asleep in your hammock. If both of us are missing, that might send off some bad signs to the others. I'll come and grab you when we're ready to go."

Although this was a little lackluster, Ophelia knew that what Will said was right. And so she nodded and decided not to protest.

Will smiled in relief. "Good," he murmured. "Then around midnight tonight, I'll sneak into the Captain's quarters. Before I do, however… Ophelia, it's been a while. Would you like to touch up on sparring?"

Never mind the dangerous situation they were in, Ophelia's face lit up like the sun as she exclaimed, "Of course!"

Her friend grinned as well, and they proceeded above deck. In her excitement, Ophelia nearly tripped over her own trousers as she took the stairs two at a time, a grin still lighting her face. Seeing her and Will sprint past, the other crew members who were already on deck watched them curiously as they found an empty space and withdrew their swords.

And in no time at all, she and Will were back to doing what they did best—sparring. In reality, it had only been a week since last they practiced, but to Ophelia, it felt like forever. Fighting now was liberating, and filled her with power and hope that she had not felt since boarding the _Dutchman._

For minutes on end, she parried, attacked, dodged. As time went on, she began to hear certain crew members beginning to cheer. Ophelia could not help but be gratified by their amusement.

At last, however, the outcome revealed that despite Ophelia's improvements, Will was still the better swordsman. He disarmed her; the blade fell to the ground with a _CLANG,_ and her defeat was met with cheers and groans and a sword pointed at her chest.

Despite her loss, she couldn't help but gently tap Will's sword and laugh teasingly, "Get that thing away from me."

Will grinned sheepishly and sheathed his sword before returning Ophelia's.

Once that was done, a voice rang out from the congregation—"So, it appears yeh **_have_** learned something useful."

Ophelia turned to see the Captain, with his tentacles crossed. But he looked amused, as if he too had been watching. Based on his comment, she figured that perhaps he had been.

"I would not have learned without Will," she replied, grinning at him.

Will, however, simply scoffed. "I provided only the basics. You taught yourself the rest."

Ophelia blushed, but grinned all the same.

"I wonder…" mused the Captain. "Perhaps yeh might do better without yer hair in yer face. Take this."

With those words, he clomped over to Ophelia and, in his lobster claw as a hand, held out a faded pink ribbon. The color reminded her of the dress she had made for Will's wedding… the wedding that never happened. The dress and the ribbon were not only the same color, but they were both stained with seawater.

"Tie yer hair back with that and try again. Amuse us," smirked Jones.

Ophelia exchanged looks with Will and shrugged. She noticed that he shifted, slightly uncomfortable. But for some reason, the prospect of showing off for the _Dutchman's_ crew excited her… maybe it was because she was eager to have **_some_** kind of approval from her father.

After all, he was the only family she had left.

"Thank you," she said as the Captain began to clomp back to where he'd previously been standing. With the new ribbon, Ophelia tied her hair back and withdrew her sword yet again.

Will wasted no time in beginning the second bout. He pressed her harder than before, but Ophelia, renewed with spirit, fought back accordingly. Just by observing the little nuances of his face, she knew where he would strike, and how to counteract.

The match went on for longer this time—this one neared three minutes. But even so, her friend was the better, and for the second time in the evening, Ophelia was disarmed.

With a sigh, Ophelia bent to grab her sword and smirked at Will. "Someday, I **_will_** beat you," she promised.

"That'll be the day," he retorted. Behind him, Bootstrap chuckled.

"Impressive," remarked Jones. Ophelia looked over to see that the Captain was nodding, as if approving. "Yeh can only get better from here."

Ophelia couldn't help but feel a small smile come over her face.

She looked at the sky then and realized that it was getting dark. If Will and Bootstrap were to steal the key tonight and they were to leave the _Dutchman,_ she should not continue to provide such entertainment. And so she said again, "Thank you, but I'm afraid the improvements shall have to start tomorrow. I'm exhausted, myself."

There were a few grumbles from the crew, but they seemed to accept her resignation in the end. Slowly, they disassembled, leaving the deck nearly as empty as it had been before the swordplay.

Will neared her then and said, "You should get some sleep while you can. I'll wake you when it's time to go."

"No, Will, I'll… stay up and wait for you," she tried to protest, but of course in the middle of this, she found herself restraining a yawn.

Will chuckled and put a hand on her shoulder. "Sleep," he said, a look in his eyes that was caring, and yet oddly sad. "You need it, Ophie."

Ophelia sighed, but couldn't refuse the pleading look he wore. And so she responded, "Alright, Will. Let me know when we're ready."

"Of course," he reassured her, smiling. He kissed her temple then and quickly left, which was just as well because Ophelia felt her face turn pink. She wrung her hands and, under the rags that Jack had tied on her left hand, felt the outline of the gold ring upon her third finger.

But not even that was enough to rid her of her grin.

All the way down to her hammock, she wore that smile. She wore it when she fell asleep as well, believing that she and Will were one step closer to the end goal—the end goal being achieving his happiness.

Even if it meant forsaking her own.


	13. Chapter 12

" ** _Up! Now!_** "

Ophelia gasped and sat up so quickly she collapsed out of the hammock she'd been sleeping in. She managed to land on her arm, which saved her head from smacking into the wood, but it throbbed when she landed on it. Startled beyond belief, she scrambled to her feet, trying to ignore her stinging arm, and did a quick inventory of the room.

Standing in front of her was her father, and he was seething. The rest of the room was empty, which made Ophelia feel sick to her stomach.

Had Will been caught trying to take the key? Based on where it had been located, she wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.

"What?" she inhaled sharply, her heart caught in her throat. Jones's sea-green eyes were full of rage and fear, the latter of which being something Ophelia **_never_** would have thought to see in his eyes.

He **_inspired_** fear, not felt it.

"That brat yeh came aboard with has stolen the key and disappeared from the ship! **_Where did he go?_** _"_

The first part of the sentence filled Ophelia with relief. So he **_had_** managed to grab the key. But the second half consumed her with a sharp stab of betrayal. He hadn't woken her. He had left her on the _Dutchman,_ even though he'd said… they would finish the job together.

"I… do not know," replied Ophelia softly, all the happiness she'd felt the previous night seeping out of her. Unbearable questions filled her mind then. Had **_this_** been his real plan—to leave her upon the _Dutchman_ so he might finish the quest without further distraction? Or was he still aboard the ship somewhere? Or perhaps he had nearly been caught and had had no time to wake her…

No matter what had happened, she could not help but feel bitter. Once again, Will had left her alone.

Only this time, it was not on Port Royal, but the most feared ship of the seas.

"Don't lie to me," snarled Jones. "I know yeh know where he went! That bastard would've trusted yeh with anything! I will find him sooner or later. Tell me where he went!"

But Ophelia, teeming with confusion and desperation, shouted back, "I don't know, I don't know, he promised not to leave me!" She was furious with herself for allowing tears to well up in her eyes, but she couldn't help it.

She'd trusted him. Of course she had. She loved him.

Jones scoffed in contempt as Ophelia wiped the tears away from her eyes. She saw the Captain glance at her from his peripherals, as if trying to see if he could glean any information out of her that way. Seeing, however, that she was telling the truth, he sighed and shouted, "Then yeh better follow me so we can **_find_** the wretch!"

As utterly upset as she was, Ophelia knew that if Will was caught, he would be severely punished, if not outright killed. Her anger aside, she knew she'd never be able to forgive herself if she allowed that to happen.

So it was silently that she nodded and pretended to obey, following the Captain up the stairs and into the Captain's quarters.

When first they entered the room, Ophelia was shocked… because the first thing she registered of the place was what she heard. What she heard was a lullaby from a music box—it had obviously been playing for a while and was very old, because the music was somewhat tinny sounding. Still, it was a lovely tune.

Her eyes then located a ginormous organ sitting on the opposite side of the room. It was covered in kelp and seawater and slime, but it looked recently played. The rest of the room was relatively empty, save for the candles on the wall and a dresser here and there. Ophelia noticed there was not even a bed.

"You will tell me what that brat planned to do last night," snarled Jones as soon as the door was shut behind them.

Ophelia sighed. "He said that he would sneak in here, steal the key, creep past the crew, and come wake me from sleep so that we might escape in the longboat together. Obviously, one of those things was not completed."

She said this with narrowed eyes and a sour taste in her mouth, and Jones most certainly noticed. With a smirk lining his face, he asked, "And how d'yeh explain Bootstrap's role in the ploy?"

"Bootstrap?" she repeated innocently.

"Aye, the very Bootstrap who saved yeh from service for an eternity! He was caught by the Bosun this morning, as he'd claimed to be taking the helm on my orders which, as a matter of fact, I did **_not_** give him! So tell me again—what was the plan?"

Knowing that he would not be fooled, Ophelia exhaled impatiently and amended her previous statement. "Very **_well._** Will would sneak in here, steal the key while Bootstrap kept the deck clear, and then Will would wake me and we would attempt to escape. There are no more lies in this explanation. This I swear."

Jones peered over her face for a moment as if to detect any signs of a lie. He found none, and it was with immense frustration that he snorted and exclaimed, "I knew I shouldn' have accepted that blackguard's deal."

Ophelia raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

It was silent after this except for the music box upon the organ. Its eerie tune reverberated throughout the spacious room that was the Captain's Quarters; suddenly, Ophelia was remembering what the Captain's Quarters on the _Pearl_ were like.

One thing was certainly different… Jack was not here, smiling at her.

And now neither was Will.

She blinked rapidly to avoid more tears from infiltrating her eyes. Swallowing hard, Ophelia sniffed and turned as if to leave—

"And where d'yeh think **_yeh're_** going?" snarled Jones from behind her.

"I'm going to see if Will is hiding somewhere on the ship."

Jones snorted in amusement. "As if, Bennett. I know this ship forwards and backwards, better than I know or knew anything else! If the wretch was here, he would've been found by now."

Just as this was said, Clanker burst into the Captain's Quarters.

"Captain!" he exclaimed. Upon seeing Ophelia, he nodded politely towards her. Ophelia returned it, if only because Clanker had always been more or less kind to her whilst on the _Dutchman._ "A ship's been spotted!"

At these words, Jones's eyes became malicious. Yet mixed with that fury was something else: a thirst for vengeance.

 _Will,_ thought Ophelia. _Will, please do not be on that ship. Please. Please be here._

As if the Captain heard her silent pleas, however, he whirled upon her and shouted, "Come with me! Yer **_wretch_** of a lover has escaped onto that ship. I shall show him the meaning of fear, and each man aboard that ship will wish he'd never been born! **_Come!_** "

Ophelia, beginning to lose all sense of collectedness, whimpered and followed.

The minute they reached the remainder of the crew, Ophelia swallowed and was filled with dread. There they all stood, surrounding Bootstrap in a threatening circle. A rusty scythe was held at his neck, and the Bosun had wrenched his arms back with a sturdy rope.

She swallowed again, though this time it was out of guilt. It was because of her that Bootstrap was here— ** _she_** should've been the one to aid Will the previous night. She should be the one standing there, with her soul enslaved to the _Dutchman_ for eternity. It all should've been her price to pay.

"Ophelia," gasped Bootstrap. His voice was ragged and weary, as if the crewmates had beaten even that out of him. "I… have something for you. Maccus. Give her the letter."

Maccus stepped forward. A limp piece of parchment was in his only slightly humanoid hand. Carefully, he outstretched it towards her.

This little gesture was not unnoticed by Jones, who immediately snapped, "What does it say?! Is it a letter of the wretch's whereabouts?"

But he was met with silence. Ophelia simply looked at the paper, her eyes recognizing that she held a letter from Will, yet not registering its significance.

Ophelia almost didn't believe she was holding it until Bootstrap looked at her with sad eyes and a look on his face that could be nothing else except an apology. Seeing that she was just staring blankly at him, he murmured, "Go ahead."

Her hands shaking, she unfolded the damp piece of paper to read:

 _My Dear Ophelia._

 _I am so sorry I had to do this. But I could not bear to put you in any more danger than I've already dragged you into. I have come to the realization that it is not likely I will survive the next few days. Surely Jones will have discovered my ruse and is pursuing me now, even as you read my writing. It is likely he will try to kill me. I will not have him try and kill you too._

 _I wish things were different. But this is something I must do, for you. You are my best friend, Ophie, and I could not bear it if your blood was on my hands. I know you are probably furious with me. As you should be—I broke my promise yet again. I am sorry for that… I truly am. But on the_ Dutchman, _you shall be safe. I know Jones will not hurt you. None of them will. You are too gentle to turn cruel, and too strong to falter alone. You shall live and be safe if you are not with me._

 _But I promise you this, Ophelia. I will come back for you. I will find the_ Dutchman _as soon as I can, and I will free you, and we shall return to Port Royal. Together; just as I promised._

 _When I find you, I will never leave you again._

 _Until then— Will_

Upon reaching the bottom of the parchment, Ophelia noticed that Will's signature was blotchy. With a start, she realized it was because she was crying. As she had been reading her best friend's farewell, the tears she'd restrained all morning had escaped, free from notice. Now that they had begun to escape, she could not stop them.

Through her tears, she looked at Bootstrap. Upon noting her expression, the man seemed to age ten years in ten seconds. Shadows lined his eyes. Regret surfaced to the front of his face, but he was silent.

She turned away from the crew and gazed at the ship so far away on the ocean. Its silhouette was barely visible, but even as she watched, it grew closer and closer as the _Dutchman_ advanced.

Deep in her gut, Ophelia knew that Will was onboard that ship.

"Bosun! Clanker! Maccus!" shouted Jones. "You know what we must do."

The three right-hand men of the Captain nodded and shuffled towards the middle of the deck, where a large column was positioned. Ophelia had of course noticed its presence before, but had never wondered what its purpose was. She merely stared as the three aligned themselves with the wheel around the column and began to push it.

As they moved, round and round in circles, the column began to rise. It grew taller and taller as the ship grew closer and closer to the other. A dark feeling overtook her, although she didn't know why.

Ophelia caught Clanker's gaze. But for some reason, he couldn't look her in the eye.

That was when the Captain began shouting.

"Let no joyful voice be heard! Let no man look up to the sky in hope! And let this day be cursed by we who ready to wake… the Kraken!"  
And suddenly, everything made horrific sense.

She and Bootstrap screamed. It was all Ophelia could do. She knew she couldn't stop Jones, not now. She began hyperventilating and felt the ominous _THUMP_ as the column slammed into the deck and a ripple spread from the _Dutchman._

The water moved in ripples around the ship. Underneath it spawned a gargantuan beast, slimy and terrifying, headed straight for the ship that hosted Will.

Ophelia sprinted towards the edge of the _Dutchman,_ short of breath and lightheaded. As she watched, she discovered that she was saying two words, over and over again, almost like a mantra.

"Please no. Please no. _Please no!_ "

But the beast had already reached the other ship. Ophelia's eyes were locked on its form as it sneaked underneath the boat and its tentacles began spreading outward like a deadly whirlpool. Before her very eyes, they started snaking up the side of the ship, its tentacles clinging to the wood.

For a brief moment, all was silent as the _Dutchman's_ Captain and crew watched with a horrified fascination. Nothing could be heard; Ophelia held her breath, desperately holding onto the faint hope that Will was still upon the _Dutchman._

A scream tore the air. A silhouette of a man flew through the air off the far-off ship, followed by one of the Kraken's tentacles.

More screams immediately followed it, as did gunshots and frantic commands and the cracking of wood and the splashes of the ocean as fragments of the ship began tumbling into the water, decimated beyond all comprehension. Ophelia's eyes once again turned wide, and she screamed, shaking the railing of the _Dutchman,_ suddenly and utterly certain that Will was on that ship, and that he was in complete mortal peril.

"Stop! **_Stop!_** " she shrieked, whirling around to face the crew. She knew that there was madness in her eyes, and fear and anger and pleading. But she couldn't help it.

She had embarked on this journey to protect Will. If she simply stood there and watched as the Kraken drowned him or ate him or simply beat him to death, she would never be able to forgive herself.

Jones snorted derisively in response to her plead. "Why should I? The wretch stole what is mine. This is his punishment."

"So retrieve the key and spare him!" she screeched, her fury overriding her fear for that piece in time. "Release him on land and have nothing more done with him! If you truly are my father, if you have any ounce of compassion in you, you will call off your beast and spare Will and all the others on that ship right **_now!_** "

The Captain, however, merely crossed his arms—or tentacle and claw—and exclaimed, "Even if I wanted to call it off, it is too late now! The Kraken is loose."

"It's **_your_** pet! You can do something!" she persisted, but with each word that exited her mouth, her rage began subsiding again, to be replaced with her fear and guilt. She could feel her stomach churning with all her pent-up emotions, making her feel more ill than she'd ever felt before.

He just laughed derisively and shook his head. The awful truth hit Ophelia then: the Captain didn't care at all about her. She was just a piece that he believed he owned. A prize, bought from the elusive Jack Sparrow.

Ophelia sank down to her knees, still grasping at the railings. But she didn't scream anymore. Not even as the Kraken's tentacles raised thirty feet above the water and slammed down into the middle of the ship, breaking it cleanly in half. She simply sat and quietly sobbed as men were pulled into the beast's maw, or yanked into the ocean to be drowned, or even stabbed through the chest with sharp pieces of debris.

Before five minutes more had passed, the Kraken had drug the ship underwater, to fester and rot at the bottom of the ocean. By this time, the _Dutchman_ was practically right next to all the wreckage. Ophelia wiped her tears away and scanned all the debris for a sign of Will, any indication of **_any_** survivors.

At the Captain's orders, the crew members dove into the water to search for the same things as she. But Ophelia couldn't bring herself to follow them. She wouldn't be able to handle it if she were to hope for Will's survival and then return to the _Dutchman,_ crushed.

Better to believe he was dead. Better to accept it sooner rather than later.

She sniffed again and struggled to rid herself of tears. When she pulled her hand away from her face, she realized she was still holding his letter. The last words he would ever speak to her.

She wanted to keep them, even if his final promise had turned out to be empty. Gently, Ophelia folded the letter and searched for something to put it in—

Someone held out a tiny glass bottle.

Ophelia looked up and was startled to see the Bosun, out of all people, holding that bottle. He said nothing, but the intention was clear.

"Thank…"

But she couldn't finish. Instead, she just nodded.

The Bosun nodded back to her, still silent. There wasn't much else to say.

Ophelia sat for ten minutes, blankly surveying the wreckage. The Kraken had been **_very_** thorough. The largest piece of wood could perhaps be used as a flotation device for an hour before sinking into the ocean. This far out in the open water, there was no way anyone could survive the attack.

Not for long, anyway.

At last, the words that Ophelia had been waiting for were said.

"The boy's not here. He must have been claimed by the sea."

She closed her eyes at the final conviction and tightly grasped the tiny glass bottle to her chest. More tears burned in her eyes. Her throat felt scratchy and raw from the screaming and the sobbing. She knew this would hardly be the end of it.

The man she loved was dead. She had failed.

"I **_am_** the sea," retorted Jones as a snarl. With these words, Ophelia felt the Captain glaring at her back, as if blaming her for his not finding Will. She didn't see why he should care… it was all but certain that Will was dead.

That, however, was when Jones's tune changed. Suddenly he sounded vulnerable and concerned as he exclaimed, "The chest is no longer safe. Chart a course to Isla Cruces. Get me there first or there'll be the devil to pay!"

Ophelia clenched the railing harder, not bothering to turn around and meet the eye of anyone present. She cursed that confounded chest with everything she had in her mind—if not for Jack's obsession with the legend of Davy Jones, Will would still be **_alive._**

But Jones sounded worried. Could that mean he thought Will was still alive?

She blinked. If he was concerned, he would have to have significant reason to be…

Jones claimed to be the sea. If that was case, then Ophelia Bennett was the daughter of the sea, and she would make damn sure that if Will was alive, she would be the one to find him first.

* * *

Hello, all! I just want to thank you for sticking with this story, and apologize for my lack of presence here on . College is busy, but I'll do my best to continue updating nonetheless. :) Feel free to leave questions or comments about the story, and thanks again. You guys are great!


	14. Chapter 13

As the _Dutchman_ sailed away from the wreckage, Ophelia's spirits again began to sink. The picture of the Kraken's carnage was still burned into her memory, and the more she thought on it, the less certain she was that Will had firstly, survived the attack, and secondly, managed to find a way to flag down another ship.

By the end of the day, she had completely given up hope. Unsure what to do with herself, Ophelia merely sat where she had watched the Kraken's savagery and read Will's letter. When it was full dark, she could no longer read, but by this time she had managed to memorize most of the words.

It was not as much comfort as she would've hoped.

Gradually, the crewmates began to head off to sleep. Ophelia, however, knew that she would not find any, and figured she might as well look at the stars in her solace.

"Still here, eh?"

It was Clanker. Ophelia didn't turn to look at him; nor did she say anything.

She heard him sigh and felt him sit down next to her. Still, she didn't look at him. She knew that Clanker couldn't have afforded to side with her against Jones's punishment, but she felt disappointment in her heart nonetheless. After all, Clanker was the closest thing to a friend that she had on the _Dutchman_ now.

"Yeh should get some sleep," he muttered.

"I will find none," she replied.

"Don' hurt to try."

She chuckled bitterly. "Thank you for your concern, Clanker, but your words shall do me no good. You don't understand what…"

Ophelia trailed off, not sure where she wanted to direct the rest of that sentence. There were many things he wouldn't understand: her relationship with Will, her true feelings for him, all that she had sacrificed for even a fraction of a chance for his happiness.

"Then tell me, and perhaps I'll understand then."

This surprised her. Ophelia turned to look at Clanker and saw that he was looking at her. His eyes were still very humanoid, and were a shade of chocolate very much like her own. What shocked her most, however, was the sincerity within them when he held her gaze.

With a small chuckle, she relented. "Very well, then. I suppose I could do that… but it will be the short version."

And she proceeded to speak of how she and Will became friends, as well as how their friendship had grown over the past twelve years. She confessed that she had fallen in love with him four years past, yet had been too scared to act upon her feelings. She explained the situation with Elizabeth and what had brought them to the _Dutchman_ in the first place; at last, she concluded with the engagement she had arranged with Lord Beckett of the East India Trading Company.

When she was finished, about thirty minutes had passed. Clanker had been an excellent listener, which actually did make Ophelia feel a little better. But at all the recollections of she and Will, she felt completely hollow.

There would be no more swordfights or weapon forging, no more "Ophie." All she had now were memories.

She knew now that those would not be enough.

There was a silence beside her for a brief moment, and then she heard her friend say, "Yeh really **_have_** given everything for him, ain't yeh?"

Ophelia couldn't help but laugh. "I did. I gambled with my life and I lost. I thought I could protect him from Jack Sparrow and the sea and all its dangers. What a fool I was," she added bitterly, shaking her head.

"Yeh hoped," said Clanker plainly. "And that was all yeh had. Don' let go of it now, lassie. It'll get yeh where you need to be."

That was all he said before rising, wishing her goodnight, and disappearing.

Once he was gone, Ophelia hummed to herself. Clanker meant well, and she appreciated him listening to her… but she didn't believe that hope would get her anywhere at this point.

That, however, was when she heard a hiss.

Ophelia stopped humming and listened intently. She was certain she had heard something, though she wasn't sure what it was. After a brief moment of silence, she decided it must have been a bit of sea spray—

"Ophie!"

There was no denying she heard Will's voice now. She bolted straight upright and leaned far out over the railing, scanning the water for anything signaling life. Despite it being full dark, she continued for another few seconds before scoffing at herself and muttering, "I must be going mad."

"No, you're not. Down here."

She blinked and leaned further out over the rail and promptly choked.

Will was standing at the edge of the lower deck of the ship, grinning profusely at her, his eyes gleaming. Upon seeing him, Ophelia promptly threw her hands over her mouth to restrain her relieved sobbing.

"Damn you, William Turner. Damn you," she wept, ferociously swiping more tears away from her face. Suddenly terrified of the possibility that someone was on deck, Ophelia lurched away from the railing and glanced around… yet no one was there.

Knowing it was safe, Ophelia clambered over the railing and dropped down to the lower deck, where Will was waiting for her. Suddenly, her face was buried in his shoulder and she was embracing him fiercely, just so thankful to see him alive. His clothes were somewhat damp and he looked tired, but he was grinning.

When at last she retreated from his shoulder, she sniffed and gasped, "I thought—I thought I'd lost you today, Will. All day, I… I didn't know what to do with myself, what to think, except that I'd failed you."

"You haven't failed anything," he reassured her. "It was I who failed you."

Ophelia began to protest, but he interrupted her by saying, "No, I did. I failed you. I made a promise when we were enslaved here together, and I broke it. Just as I did a year ago. I wrote you a letter. After betraying your trust, I thought a simple letter would make up for it. When the Kraken attacked, I realized…"

He trailed off, clearly tormented by the close-up account of the Kraken's destruction. Ophelia could hardly blame him. She'd watched the spectacle from far off, and that had been scarring.

But Will soon snapped out of the trance and merely sighed, "I'm sorry, Ophelia. I shouldn't have done this."

Ophelia didn't know what he meant by "this," but she didn't want to dwell on it. Instead, she shook her head and protested, "No, Will. Do not be sorry anymore. If you make good on your promise in your letter, that shall be more than enough for me to forgive you."

Will chuckled somewhat, as if skeptical of Ophelia's generous comments. But of course she knew why she wasn't angry—she was overwhelmingly relieved. She had the man she loved returned to her once again. Even if nothing in their relationship had changed, at least he was alive and still had a chance to live in the happiness he so deserved.

When Ophelia looked into Will's eyes again, however, she noticed something that she had failed to discern before. He was troubled, and immensely so. She would recognize that look in his eyes anywhere.

"What is it?" she questioned, her voice concerned. "Something is bothering you."

He was quiet for a second, seeming to gather his thoughts. But then he murmured, "It was something one of my father's friends said, when I first woke up after my… punishment."

Ophelia shivered. She easily recalled how limp his form had been; how many shades of red decorated his back like a gruesome painting. She shook her head and forced away the memories before asking, "What did he say?"

"The man said the chest was hidden…"

"Well, we already knew **_that,_** " giggled Ophelia, offering Will a half-smile.

He reflected it back at her upon hearing her response, but he still seemed troubled. It was obvious by the way his eyebrows furrowed together—he always wore that look when he worked in the forge.

That was when he continued with, "I know, but the problem is something else he mentioned. He said to stab the heart, but **_not_** to stab the heart, because the _Dutchman_ always needed a Captain."

"As does every ship," muttered Ophelia, also troubled by these words. "Perhaps there is something about the heart that Jack has not told us."

"That was my thinking," agreed Will. The expression upon his face was one of clear distaste, and it became apparent in his voice as well as he added, "There are a lot of things I bet he hasn't told us. Need to know, right?"

Ophelia chuckled darkly. Jack was indeed the kind of person to only mention integral details when he had to. But she said nothing else.

A troubled silence overcame them both, filling the space between them. Ophelia longed to speak of something lighter, to set them to laughing like she might have done in Port Royal, but she could think of nothing. After all, their entire time spent aboard the _Dutchman_ was filled with moments of misery and pain and despair. There had never really been any good parts whilst on the ship, except for their training two nights past, when all the crew and their fathers had been watching.

It almost appeared that Will read her mind, because he cleared his throat and sighed wistfully, "I wish we could train aboard the deck of the ship again."

"As do I," replied Ophelia, unable to keep a little smile off her face. Involuntarily, she reached up to her wavy brown hair and felt for the pink, faded ribbon that the Captain had given her. She found that it was still there, tying her hair back and away from her face.

For some odd reason, it comforted her to feel it there.

She looked at Will again only to see that he had been watching her. When he saw her raise an eyebrow, however, he grinned sheepishly and said, "Sorry."

She giggled, admittedly amused, but could think of nothing else to say. For a short while, they simply stood there, hidden by the bow of the ship and the mesh netting. The only sounds were those of the sea as the _Dutchman_ sailed along its waters.

Becoming unnerved by the silence, Ophelia then murmured, "Jones is sailing for the chest, Will. He thinks you are on your way there now. I heard him… he sounded worried."

Will exhaled slowly, a faint smile ghosting his face. With this look, Ophelia could see how exhausted he was. She promptly became concerned about him again, but before she could voice those concerns, her friend said, "That is good news, then. It shall give us a chance to escape this ship."

"How so?"

"Jones cannot step on land, remember? Where the chest is, so shall land be. And, I have a feeling, Jack Sparrow."

This made Ophelia stop short. She had never thought that she would see Jack again. It had been less than a week since she and Will had arrived on the _Dutchman,_ but it felt like so much longer than that. They had both gone through so much, she had never once spared a thought to seeing Jack again.

How would she feel? Relieved to be away from the _Dutchman?_ Or furious for Jack's betrayal in the first place?

As it was, her uncertainty must've been plain on her face, because Will laughed and declared, "I feel the same way. I am not sure what to expect."

"I am sure there is much to be done still before we are free of this ship," said Ophelia with a sigh. "So long as we pursue the heart, the _Dutchman_ shall be tied with us."

"It is a good thing that Jack wants the heart, then."

Ophelia nodded, but for some reason, the thought of giving Jones's heart to Jack nauseated her. She wasn't quite sure why it sickened her so much… but it did.

"Is something wrong?" asked Will, immediately noticing the change.

Ophelia knew that this feeling was ridiculous. After all, if she refused to give Jack the heart, he in turn would rebuff giving Will his compass, which was Elizabeth's ticket to freedom. She knew she couldn't stand in the way of Will's happiness for the sake of a bad gut feeling.

So she replied, "No, Will. Nothing is wrong… nothing **_more,_** at any rate."

This last made Will chuckle and shake his head. He looked at Ophelia for another second before sighing and saying, "You should get back on deck before others declare you're missing and search for you."

"They wouldn't search for me," she contradicted.

Will, however, just gave her a look and replied, "Jones would."

She sighed again. The only reason Jones would want her around was so she wouldn't be "abducted" by Jack Sparrow.

But Ophelia did not wish to argue; when she saw Will restrain a yawn, she smiled sadly and said, "You are exhausted. Get some rest whilst you can. Try the cargo hold—it should be empty. We shall need all our strength to escape the _Dutchman_ while we are there."

Her friend nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder. "That goes for you, too, Ophie."

She laughed softly at the tired use of her nickname. She suddenly was washed in a wave of gratitude to whatever sea god or religious god spared Will, allowed him to live, at least a little while longer. Her eyes drank in his face: his deep brown eyes, the constant half-smirk upon his face, his dark hair.

Overcome with that relief, Ophelia smiled and kissed his hand, the way she did in Port Royal, and murmured, "Very well. Goodnight, Will. I shall see you tomorrow," before darting around the mesh netting and towards her hammock.

* * *

Hello, everyone! Sorry for the wait, again. As always, I'm ever so thankful that you've decided to keep up with the story! :) You lot are the best. The holiday season is a-comin' up, and I **_promise_** I will update during winter break at least once! Someone hold me to that, just in case, though. ;) Anyhow, I hope everyone has a great first week of December. Thanks for reading, and as always, feel free to leave your comments, thoughts, criticisms, etc.!

Much love,

~Avalain Nightshade


	15. Chapter 14

Ophelia woke before dawn knowing that she would have to fake being miserable until the _Dutchman_ arrived at Isla Cruces. In order to be convincing, she rose early in the morning and returned to the spot she had been sitting at the previous day, in the same cross-legged position, while blankly staring at the ocean in front of her.

One by one, her crewmates began to rise. She heard quite a few of them roaring with laughter at a joke told by Maccus, but as soon as they arrived on deck, their mirth was silenced. After a moment, she heard some whispering.

As they could only see her back, Ophelia allowed herself a little smirk. Apparently this was convincing enough as it was. She almost felt bad for her ploy.

She heard their footsteps grow fainter as each of them arrived to their positions. Ophelia wiped the smirk off of her face just in case one happened to glance at her, and kept her eyes trained on the sea.

It was a beautiful day. The sky was a pure blue, no clouds to be seen. The water was almost aquamarine in color, and whilst normally she would be reveling in the day's beauty, today she could not, for the sake of pretending.

For an hour or so, the crew continued with their day, doing their best to pay Ophelia no attention. And she strived to do the same. She took the little glass bottle with Will's letter in it and twirled it in between her fingers as she blankly overlooked the sea.

That was when she heard someone approach her.

"Why him?"

Ophelia knew that voice. It was Jones.

She glanced up at him, careful to keep her face blank, and remained silent.

"There are many other men that could make yeh happy," said Jones, not sitting down beside her. "Why are yeh so miserable about this one?"

She allowed herself to sigh and figured that if she didn't reply, she would only infuriate the Captain. So she answered, "You wouldn't… understand."

Jones chuckled bitterly. "Try me."

This caused her surprise. She looked at him again, as if wondering whether he was bluffing or not. When, however, she saw a real challenge in his eyes, she exhaled slowly and said, whilst hoping that Will was not within earshot, "He was all I had for twelve years. He showed me kindness where I had expected none. How could I not… love him?"

Ophelia felt herself choke up with these last words, and not because she was pretending. Because it was true—she did love him, and he did not love her. This was one of the moments where she really felt it.

She heard Jones sigh somewhat and say, "Catharine was a good woman."

Ophelia swiveled so hard her neck almost popped. Her eyes were wide… was it possible he would tell her about her mother?

"I found her in the marketplace when she was eighteen years old. We spent the entire day I had on land together. I said I only visited that specific port once a decade. She said that if that was the case, she'd be at the same fruit stall exactly ten years later.

"I thought she'd be joking. But when I came back, she was there. Yer mother was never one to go back on her promises."

Jones fell silent then, refusing to look at Ophelia. When it was clear that she would not be saying anything, however, he sighed again and continued with, "Love hurts, Bennett. Particularly when yeh know you can never have that person. I suggest yeh face that and move on. It will be best."

With that, the Captain nodded her direction and clomped away, leaving Ophelia speechless. If she didn't know any better, she'd say that this was Jones's own odd way of attempting to be kind and give advice.

As it was, she knew she couldn't show too much surprise, or her grief wouldn't be believable.

Luckily, she didn't have to keep up the charade for much longer. After another fifteen minutes went by, the far off silhouette of land appeared over the horizon.

Gradually, the _Dutchman_ got closer and closer until at last, Jones whipped out a telescope and inspected the beach. Based on the way he thrust it upon the deck of the ship, Ophelia made the educated guess that they weren't the first ones to arrive.

She was proven correct when Jones snarled, "They're here. And I cannot step back on land for near of a decade."

"You'll trust us to act in your stead?" asked Maccus, who as always was standing on Jones's right side.

Jones whirled around to face his first mate and snarled menacingly. "I'll trust yeh to know what awaits you should you **_fail_**!" With these words, the Captain clomped his way over to Ophelia and, without as much hostility as she thought she would see, said, "And what of you? Will yeh remain here, or will you go on land and risk whatever that blackguard Sparrow will do with yeh on his ship?"

Ophelia blinked, startled by the fact that she was being given a choice of what to do. After a moment of thought, she replied, "I will go ashore for now and do my best to retrieve the chest for you because, contrary to what you might believe, I don't want Jack to have it. But once that is done… I shall have to think about what I will do."

The Captain of the _Dutchman_ curtly nodded, although Ophelia couldn't help but notice that he had been surprised when she declared she would help retrieve the chest. In fact, Ophelia had surprised **_herself_** by saying that… but now she knew why she wanted to help Jones.

Because despite everything that had occurred on the cursed ship, despite all the pain and uncertainty she felt upon discovering Jones was her father, he was exactly that. Her father—and the only family she had left.

Even though he was an accursed and feared legend, he had proven that he was not entirely cruel. Not to her. He tried to spare her on multiple occasions. It proved that there was still at least a sliver of compassion in his severed heart.

And Ophelia didn't want that to be taken from her just yet.

As she thought this, Jones replied, "Very well then. **_Down!_** "

The crew heard the command and repeated, screaming, " ** _DOWN!_** "

And before Ophelia's very eyes, the _Dutchman_ began to sink into the ocean. She gasped and whirled around only to see that there was an air bubble around her face as she sank into the water, along with the ship.

She glanced at Jones in questioning, but he just smirked and said, "The _Dutchman_ knows what her crew needs."

For a moment, the ship continued to descend underneath the surface of the water. At last, when Ophelia thought her head would compress due to the pressure of the water, she turned back to Jones and gurgled, "I need to surface."

He nodded and waved her on. Ophelia struggled to rise, her legs kicking fiercely. She hoped that Will had enough sense to get a head start on her…

Her hopes were not misplaced. When Ophelia broke the surface, gasping and spluttering, she saw him waiting for her about twenty feet ahead, just out of sight from the _Dutchman_ and her crew. Seeing him, the girl grinned. It was just like old times, now… if Ophelia wanted, she could be free to sail across the seas with Will again.

Of course, there was still the matter of her father, but… that was a crossroad she would not face yet.

She swam towards him, unable to contain her grin. He grinned back at her before waving and saying, "Let's go."

It took about ten minutes for them to reach the beach. When they arrived, they saw that Jack, Elizabeth, and another scraggly-looking man were already there. Jack was sitting cross-legged upon the sand, Elizabeth glaring off into the trees, and the man was digging something up.

Ophelia blinked upon seeing Elizabeth present. Wasn't she supposed to be in jail?

That was when the scraggly brunet hauled up a chest from the sand.

Ophelia swallowed hard and watched as Will started marching towards them. They both knew what was inside that chest.

As she and Will approached, they heard Elizabeth whisper, "It's real."

The brunet stared at Jack with incredulity and said, "You really **_were_** telling the truth."

Jack looked highly affronted as he retorted, "I do that quite a lot, yet people are always surprised."

"With good reason!" shouted Will, storming up to the trio. But then his eyes landed unmistakably on Elizabeth, and all the anger he felt towards Jack seemed to disappear in half of a second.

Elizabeth realized what was happening only a split second after Will—and a split second after Ophelia.

As Elizabeth shrieked and barreled towards Will, Ophelia could only watch as he embraced and kissed her. She swallowed again and looked away. She would rather that the blasted woman remained in prison… but of course, if this made Will happy then she could hardly question or contest it.

Still, it hurt to watch. It hurt to have all her beliefs and fears reinforced. Even after all she and Will had been through together, without Elizabeth, nothing had changed.

Of course, she hadn't expected it to. If Will didn't love her after twelve years of friendship, why should he love her now?

Ophelia's eyes landed on the scraggly brunet. He too looked a little pained. She figured this must've been the man who once was in love with Elizabeth as well—Commodore Norrington.

Then she looked at Jack, who looked nothing short of gleeful. It was like he was watching his favorite play, the way he clasped his hands together, the way his eyes darted between herself, Norrington, and the two embracing in between them.

Ophelia glared at him then—Jack noticed and promptly stopped wearing his shit-eating grin. He then glanced between Will and Ophelia and asked, "How did you two get here?"

Will looked away from Elizabeth, a grand smirk upon his face. "Sea turtles, mate. We got a pair of them strapped to our feet."

"Not so easy, is it?" simpered Jack, obviously catching Will's malice.

Whilst Ophelia was just currently relieved to be off the _Dutchman,_ it seemed that Will did not share the same sentiments. And so, as passive-aggressive as possible, he added, "And I suppose I should thank you, Jack. After you tricked Ophelia and me onto that ship to square your debt with Jones… I was reunited with my father."

Will glanced at Ophelia with this last, as if telling her that it was her decision whether or not to tell Jack of her parentage.

Ophelia was immensely grateful for this. She wasn't yet sure whether or not she should tell Jack.

Jack blinked and looked away from Elizabeth, who was positively red with anger. He then tried to put another smirk on his face and waved his hands in a typical grandiose gesture.

"Oh. Well, you're welcome, then," the pirate exclaimed. But then he pointed at Ophelia and said, "But technically she followed you of her own accord. I had nothing to do with her."

Ophelia shrugged. That was fair enough.

Elizabeth, however, was positively seething as she hissed, "Everything you said to me… every word was a lie!"

"Pretty much. Time and tide, love."

Ophelia laughed. She couldn't help it—how could Elizabeth not see it coming? It was Jack Sparrow, after all.

The other woman glared malevolently at Ophelia, but Ophelia's attention was not centered around her. She noticed that Will was kneeling beside the chest that Norrington had dug up, and the key was in his hand.

"Oi. What are you doing?" asked Jack.

Will chuckled. "I'm going to kill Jones!"

With these words, Ophelia gasped sharply. Before she could implore for Will to reconsider his actions, however, Jack whipped his sword out from its scabbard. It was poised at Will's neck as the Captain retorted, "I can't let you do that, William. Cause if Jones is dead, who's to call his terrible beastie off the hunt, eh?"

Noting the sword at his neck, Will sighed and rose, away from the chest. Ophelia couldn't help but notice the steely determination on his face. She knew that look. It was the look that said this was far from over.

She was right. When he stepped back, towards Elizabeth, he reached over her waist for her sword and stole it. With her sword in hand, Will turned its point towards Jack, whose eyebrows had risen significantly.

"I keep the promises I make, Jack," said Will. "I intend to free my father. I hope you're here to see it."

A sharp sound of metal scraping against metal echoed across the open air. Ophelia and Elizabeth whirled around to find Norrington withdrawing his sword, pointing it at Will as he sneered, "I can't let you do that, either. So sorry."

"I knew you'd warm up to me eventually," grinned Jack, but Norrington just pointed his sword at Jack in response.

Will's sword shifted to Norrington, and Jack's belatedly to Will.

"Lord Beckett desires the contents of that chest," explained Norrington. "I deliver it, I get my life back."

Jack chuckled darkly and mused, "Ah. The dark side of ambition."

"Oh, I prefer to see it as the promise of redemption."  
"Stop it."

Ophelia was shocked with how commanding she sounded when she said these words. Apparently, everyone else was as well, because they all turned to face her with nearly identical looks of surprise on their face.

Seeing that she had their attention, she breathed deeply and inquired, "Am I right in saying that each of you wants the chest for his own purpose?"

"Pretty much, love," simpered Jack.

"Well, too bad. If anyone deserves that blasted thing, it is **_me_** _._ William Turner, do not dare forget what I've done and been ready to sacrifice for you to free Elizabeth. Now that she's here, you owe me. Jack Sparrow, I played a significant part for freeing your soul, even if it was unintentional. You owe me too. And I don't even know where **_you_** come into play here, **_Commodore Norrington_** _."_

Ophelia rather spat this speech, as she was infuriated by the selfishness and greed of men. She stood tall with immeasurable fortitude, her fists balled, and fire in her dark eyes.

Norrington wore that fire too as he spat, "It's only Norrington now."

"Whatever your rank, you have no rightful claim to the contents of that chest," argued Ophelia. She realized that as she had been speaking, her hand had hovered to the pommel of her sword. Her fingers were just itching to pull it out.

Norrington just laughed. "I didn't say I had a rightful claim to the chest, sweetheart. And I daresay I have more a place in this fight than **_you._** "

Ophelia's lips pulled back over her teeth, and she slowly withdrew her sword and pointed it directly at him. With this snarl on her face, she hissed, "Try me, **_Commodore_** _._ I dare you."

"Uh—lassie— ** _why_** exactly do you want that chest?"

It was only because it was Jack who was speaking that Ophelia even bothered to respond. She decided it would be difficult to explain her stance on the issue if she didn't tell the truth—and so she answered, "I will not let you kill him. I will not let you control him. I will not let you blackmail him until the ends of the earth might rot and the sea is all that remains. I will save my father if I can."

"Your **_father?_** " exclaimed Jack.

Will's face fell. Softly, he said, "Ophelia, don't do this."

"My father," repeated Ophelia, her attention solely on the Captain of the _Pearl._ There was a smug grin on her face as she hummed the name. "Davy Jones."

A deadly silence took over the clearing, as Jack stared at her with wide eyes and Norrington glared with malice at her. Elizabeth looked slightly disgusted, not that Ophelia would've expected anything different from **_her._**

That, however, was when Jack cleared his throat and muttered, "Somehow, I'm not actually that surprised. It would explain a lot."

Ophelia proudly displayed her newest scar and leered. "A testimony to my time aboard the _Dutchman,_ as well as proof that I had some bonding time with my long-lost father."

After saying this, she quickly turned her gaze upon the man whom she was pointing her sword at. She dared Norrington to say something—anything—that would be offensive, but what he said next was not that.

"Your name is Ophelia?"

"Yes," she responded, startled by his change of topic.

"As in Ophelia Bennett?"

She nodded, quite unnerved by how Norrington might've come across her full name.

Norrington chuckled, his eyes raking over her form, making Ophelia feel **_very_** uncomfortable. "I can see why Lord Beckett has most eagerly been spreading news of your engagement, then."

Ophelia froze. Her eyes immediately and unintentionally darted to Will, who had lowered his sword in confusion. He glanced at Ophelia, who looked back to Norrington. She was unsure whether or not he would speak about what she'd tried for so long to hide, especially from Will…

As it was, Norrington seemed to notice Will's expression. With a malicious chuckle, he pointed towards Ophelia and asked, "Has she not told you? The Lord Beckett has been telling anyone who'll listen. He's engaged to the loveliest woman he's ever laid eyes on, he said—a woman by name of Ophelia Bennett."

Will looked between Norrington and Ophelia and gradually began to notice the details on her face that betrayed her guiltiness. He noticed the way she had frozen, how she swallowed uneasily.

How she tried to hide her fear deep within her eyes.

"What do you mean… you two are engaged?" he asked quietly, his sword lowering all the more.

But Ophelia could not answer. She still couldn't quite believe that Will had been so blatantly told what she'd tried, for the past month and then some, to hide from him at all costs. She couldn't quite think of what to say, how to defend herself and her choice, and what she had to do.

She could only stand there and stare.

"Well… are you?" probed Will.

She still couldn't answer.

Suddenly, Will's sword was pointed at **_her_** _,_ and he looked utterly betrayed. Ophelia's heart dropped to hear the anger and desperation in his voice as he shouted, "Tell me the truth, Ophelia! **_Tell me_**!"

Knowing that there was no other choice, she nodded and whispered, "It's true. Lord Beckett and I are engaged."

Will's sword-arm dropped to his side as he looked at her with something reminiscent of anger and confusion. The only word he seemed to think of was, " ** _Why?_** "

"I… to set you free. To insure your pardon. To keep you **_alive_** , Will," sighed Ophelia, shrugging helplessly. "What was I supposed to do, let you die?"

Will stared at her, a hardness in his gaze. Despite her best efforts, she could not see past the emotional barrier that he'd erected. She had no idea what he might be thinking or feeling, and that in itself was torment.

After what seemed like an eternity of unbearable silence, Will replied, "Yes, Ophie. You should've let me die."

And he lunged towards Norrington, whose sword was pointed Ophelia's way, and began the fight.


	16. Chapter 15

Even though Will had caught Norrington by surprise, the former Commodore was a skilled enough swordsman to dodge the attack before he could be skewered. But Will was persistent, and he kept attacking again and again, driving the man back.

Seeing that Will was fighting for her despite his anger, Ophelia decided to join the fray. She noticed that Jack was sneaking up on Will's back, and she drove towards him, desperate to keep the Captain at bay.

Jack stepped back once engaged with Ophelia's sword. He raised an eyebrow at the way she parried and thrust and attacked—all relentlessly and determinedly. After she managed to drive him back a couple feet, he shouted, "Seems like you've picked up a few tricks from good ol' Jonesey, eh, love?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Jack?" huffed Ophelia, striking a blow. He only barely managed to block it. "My name is **_Ophelia!_** "

She launched forward again, but this time Jack danced out of the way, and she found herself striking at Norrington. Before she knew it, she and the former Commodore were the ones sparring now.

"You fight well! Does your fiancé know about that?" quipped Norrington.

Ophelia narrowed her eyes and leaped backward to avoid his blade. "No, but I know that you will!"

And she and Norrington continued fighting. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Jack and Will were starting to grow farther and farther away from her and Norrington, which made Ophelia nervous. She wanted to have Will close-by, because although he might be mad at her, she was relatively sure he would still fight alongside her.

Desperately, she drove Norrington towards them. It took a minute or so, but at last they were all gathered together again. Off in the distance, she could hear Elizabeth screaming at them all to stop—"This is barbaric!"—but of course no one listened.

More prominent than Elizabeth's complaining was Will's warning of, "Duck!"

Ophelia immediately obeyed, and Will's sword soared over her head and towards Norrington's shoulder. The attack was so swift, the edge of the blade nicked his arm, which only made Norrington mad. It was then Norrington against Will once more, leaving Jack and Ophelia to continue their fight.

Just as she was about to raise her sword, however, Jack raised his hands in surrender and exclaimed, "Whoa, whoa, Ophelia! I have a proposition for you."

"Oh? And will it lead me back to the _Dutchman,_ Jack?"

He chuckled. "Hopefully not. What if… we were to form a bit of an alliance, you and me. Me and you. Us, dearie. What a grand thing that could be."

"Get to the point," snapped Ophelia irately.

"What if I were to give Jonesey his heart back after he promises to call his beastie off my tail? I wouldn't keep it. I'd give it back. Cross me own heart."

Ophelia paused for a moment. She had been sure that he wanted it to continue holding power over Jones for as long as possible… which was to say, as long as Jack Sparrow lived. She had thought that the pirate would want to make sure nothing could ever touch him or his title of Captain.

But if Jack was being honest… then they could both have their interests satisfied, and there would be no need to fight each other.

That, however, was when Will shouted, "Don't listen to him, Ophelia!"

With these words, she recalled the last deal that Jack had made her—the promise he'd betrayed. He'd promised to keep Will safe, and five days later, Ophelia had thought he had died.

"No, Jack," she found herself saying. Her heart was heavy at the recollection of Will's faux death, and she discovered that she could not yet forgive Jack entirely for his betrayal. "I cannot trust you. Not again. I will not take the risk a second time."

Jack sighed and raised his sword once more. "I'm sad to hear that, lassie," he lamented, his mouth sideways. "It looks like we'll have to settle things the old fashioned way, then, won't we?"

Without any other warning, Jack attacked. Ophelia yelped aloud as his blade grazed her side, but she didn't let herself show any other sign of weakness.

Will heard her cry. His eyes widened when he saw a slight strip of red cover her white blouse and, when he found a large enough opening, he moved forward to Norrington and pushed the man towards Jack as hard as he could.

It was enough. Norrington and Jack began sparring, and Will rushed over to Ophelia.

Although he was clearly concerned, his voice was still tough as he asked, "Are you seriously hurt?"

Ophelia shook her head, still saddened by Will's anger. She carefully assessed his face and noticed that his mouth was hard-set, and his eyes were slightly narrowed. He looked more put-out than angry, as if the reason he was mad wasn't that she was engaged to Lord Beckett, but that she hadn't **_told_** him about it.

She knew she had to say something.

"You know that I don't love him, don't you?"

Will looked into her eyes and seemed to know exactly what she meant. He shook his head as he replied, "I do know. And that makes it all the worse."

There was no immediate response for that. She and Will merely looked at each other for a moment while Jack and Norrington sparred in the background. Deep in her heart, Ophelia knew that now was the time. If she was ever to tell him how she felt, it was now.

And yet, she still couldn't do it. She couldn't make it worse. Thus, she heard herself rambling halfheartedly, "Look, Will. I did it because you're my best friend. You would've done it for me. It's too late to be angry about it now because it's **_done._** I made a deal, and if it will keep you alive, I'm going to stick with it."

She knew she had to make it appear like what she felt between them was friendship: nothing more. As much as it aggrieved her to keep the truth of how she felt for him hidden, she knew there was no other choice.

"You still shouldn't have…" Will swallowed and closed his eyes. "This is why you've been so persistent on coming with me, hasn't it."

The way he said this made it clear this was not a question.

Ophelia nodded. "Yes. Yes, it is. I wanted to make sure you succeeded, so you could live freely with Elizabeth. I would not be married to Lord Beckett only to hear that you failed, or died. I had to oversee this for myself."

Will sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, his eyes carefully rid of any emotion. He locked eyes with Ophelia and attempted to locate what she felt through that—but she was as good at hiding her feelings as he, and he eventually gave up with a groan.

"For better or worse, Ophelia, you are the most loyal person I have ever met."

She smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Need I remind you, Will Turner, that said loyalty has proven useful to you?"

He laughed at that. "I know it has. That's why I want to propose something. An alliance between **_us._** You and me. Me and you. Us."

Ophelia rolled her eyes upon noticing that Will was intentionally copying Jack's mannerisms. She opened her mouth to respond, but behind Will's back she noticed Norrington charging him. So instead of saying yea or nay, Ophelia declared, "I believe I'll have to get back to you on that, Will. It looks like someone else is just **_dying_** to join in on the fun."

She ran in front of Will and began fighting Norrington again.

Only a few more minutes passed before she realized that they were all heading into the woods of the island, still fighting as they went. Ophelia had no idea where they were all going—Will had the key, and she was hell-bent on making sure it remained that way.

Just as she was about to enter the foliage of the island, however, Will looked over his shoulder and shouted, "Ophelia, can you guard the chest?"

Knowing that the key would be useless without the thing it unlocked, Ophelia nodded and waited for Norrington and Jack to sprint past her and continue fighting Will. Once they were all but out of eyesight, she turned around and began jogging back to the beach.

Ophelia arrived there to see Elizabeth sitting on the sand, pouting. When the woman caught sight of her, she pursed her lips before asking, "Where have they gone?"

"Into the woods. I was asked to guard the chest," replied Ophelia curtly. If Elizabeth wanted to be that way, then fine. She would be happy to return the favor.

There was a brief and uncomfortable silence between the two women for a moment. Ophelia could practically **_feel_** the tension seeping through the air.

It disappeared when Elizabeth burst out, "Thank you. For protecting him."

Ophelia was so startled by her comment that she was silent. She looked at Elizabeth, who was not looking back at her, and noticed that her hands were wringing together, and her feet shuffled restlessly. She wondered whether this behavior was due to Elizabeth's worry about Will fighting Norrington and Jack, or due to her uncomfortableness with Ophelia.

At last, Ophelia regained enough sense to reply, "Of course, Elizabeth. It was the least I could do."

She did not mention how she had not thought of Elizabeth once whilst trying to keep Will safe.

Elizabeth finally looked at Ophelia and, seeing the half-smile upon her face, offered one of her own. The gesture led Ophelia to believe that perhaps not all was hopeless when it came to her relations with Will's fiancée… even if she was just that.

Before either of them could say anything more, the sound of giggling and shuffling footsteps could be heard. Utterly confused, the two looked behind them only to see that Ragetti and Pintel had stolen the chest, and were running towards the woods.

Ophelia glanced at Elizabeth. Elizabeth glanced at Ophelia. Then Ophelia held out a hand and said, "Let's go show those bastards what for."

Elizabeth smirked and allowed Ophelia to help her up. Then the two women began sprinting after the raggedy pirates, determined to overtake them and win back the chest.

It took about five minutes of nonstop running before Elizabeth and Ophelia caught them. Hiding behind a few of the palm trees in the foliage, they burst out and stopped Pintel and Ragetti in their tracks.

Ophelia withdrew her sword and pointed it at the two—but Elizabeth gasped sharply.

"Will took my sword," whispered Elizabeth.

Ophelia blinked and casually stepped in front of Elizabeth, willing to take on most of the fighting if she had to. As it was, fighting two people at once, especially two people who had quite a good amount of experience, was a bit nerve-wracking, and Pintel and Ragetti seemed to sense that.

"Ello, poppets," chuckled Pintel. The two began to stalk forward, towards Ophelia. She held out her sword resolutely, determined to fight for as long as possible—

But then an axe flew past her and the others and embedded itself in a tree. The four whirled around to see Jones's crew was charging toward them, screaming inanely and headed straight for the chest.

Seeing them coming, Elizabeth instantly screamed and turned to run. Pintel and Ragetti, obviously uneager to encounter the _Dutchman's_ crew once again, soon followed suit. It was only Ophelia who remained, and when the crew saw her standing there, they stopped.

It was the Bosun who shouted, "What are you doing?!"

"Trying to regain control of the chest," answered Ophelia calmly. "Just like I promised I would do. But I shall do it my own way. If you interfere now, my plans will go to waste."

In truth, Ophelia's plan was to ally herself with Will and find common ground with him. She figured that given enough persistence, she could convince her friend to give Jones his heart back **_if_** he released his hold over Bootstrap.

But the Bosun didn't seem to trust Ophelia's words, because with a snarl, he growled, "We were ordered to retrieve the chest, no matter what! If you get it first, it's yours. But if **_we_** do, we will not hesitate to cut you down should you resist!"

"That's fair," remarked Ophelia. And without any other words, she turned to sprint after Elizabeth and the other two pirates, who by this time were extremely far out of sight.

The crew of the _Dutchman_ began following her, screaming and raising their swords as they did. Ophelia put on a burst of speed, desperate to catch the other three and retrieve the chest before the crew did. If she failed to grab it, it would cost Will his father, and she would **_not_** let him down like this.

Finally, she reached them on the outskirts of the woods. But the _Dutchman's_ thugs did as well, and suddenly there was the clanking of swords crashing down together and Elizabeth shouted, "Sword!"

Without thought, Ophelia chucked hers to the woman—Elizabeth used it to fend off Maccus. When she cut him down, Ophelia could not help but be impressed. Maccus was one of the best fighters the _Dutchman_ had to offer.

It was clear there was more to Elizabeth than met the eye, although Ophelia was not sure whether she would like what she would find or not.

"Sword!" Ophelia shouted this time. But it was Ragetti who tossed it to her.

She only barely managed to parry a halfhearted blow from none other than Clanker, who looked as if he didn't want to fight her.

"What're yeh doin', lass?" he asked quietly so the Bosun couldn't hear.

"I'm trying to protect my father, Clanker," responded Ophelia as a whisper. She thrust the sword halfheartedly his direction; he dodged it easily. "I know it doesn't look like it, but I really am. I'm just doing it my own way."

Clanker peered at her carefully and, after a moment of silence, murmured, "There's somethin' that's changed. The boy. He's alive, ain't he? Yeh found him."

Ophelia glanced around to make sure no one else was watching. But then she nodded and asked, "Can you tell Bootstrap?'

"Aye. I can tell him."

"Thank you," whispered Ophelia, a smile crossing her face. This, at least, would be good news for Will. She was sure that he would appreciate it.

" ** _SWORD!_** " shrieked Pintel.

Ophelia whirled around to see the Bosun poised over the pirate, ready to strike a fatal blow. With a gasp, she chucked her sword to Pintel, who used the weapon to stab the Bosun in the stomach.

The _Dutchman's_ member gasped sharply and staggered backward. Pintel then seized the sword from his stomach, grabbed the chest, and ran away from the fight again. He was swiftly pursued by Elizabeth, Ophelia, and Ragetti, as well as all of Jones's crew who were not overly incapacitated.

Before Ophelia knew it, they were back at the beach. But when they got there, something was odd.

There was a fierce rumbling in the ground, and it made everyone's balance shaky. The entire company stopped and stared for a moment as a giant water wheel began rolling down the beach and into the ocean—as it passed, Ophelia could hear two different men screaming from inside it.

Eventually, it collapsed into the ocean with a giant _SPLASH!_ A moment after it stopped, Will and Norrington emerged from the wheel, looking extraordinarily queasy. They both climbed over the water wheel and promptly fell into the water from dizziness.

The spectacle over, the fighting resumed. Ophelia looked around, knowing that Jack must have the key. It was the only explanation for why he hadn't been in the water wheel as well… if either Will or Norrington had it, he would've followed them.

Immediately after she thought this, she spotted him by the longboat he and the others must've used to reach the beach. He had plunked the chest into the longboat and was in the process of opening it—

Ophelia launched that direction, fighting the waves that crashed toward the shore so she might reach him before he had the opportunity to steal or even stab the heart.

Halfway towards the Captain, however, she felt meaty hands seize her shoulders and waist, and she felt herself being lifted up into the air.

She shrieked and tried to free herself only be met with a raspy laugh.

"Don't struggle, Ms. Jones," chuckled Maccus as he pushed and prodded her towards the ocean, away from Jack, and away from the battle. "We've received new orders. I'm to take you back to the Captain while the others grab the chest."

"I won my freedom in Liar's Dice!" retorted Ophelia, struggling against the first mate's iron grip. It was no use. She was stuck. "You have no right to take me anywhere!"

Maccus practically tossed her over his shoulder and scoffed. "Get over yerself, lass! Yer the Captain's daughter. He's not goin' ter let yeh go so easily!"

Ophelia pounded on his back with her fists, but his skin was covered in so many points and spikes that she only ended up hurting herself. She felt the familiar sensation of warm blood across her palm and knew that she'd have to disinfect that cut later.

Ignoring it for the moment, she shouted, "Maccus! Put me down **_now!_** "

Maccus just laughed—but his laugh turned into a sputter and he suddenly dropped Ophelia in the ocean.

Not expecting this at all, Ophelia accidentally swallowed a mouthful of seawater, and it got in her eyes and nose and she felt her entire face burning. As she coughed and spluttered, a strong and gentle hand pulled her up past the surface and steadied her upon her feet.

"Ophie?!"

"Will," she choked. Of course. Who else would it have been?

"Are you alright?" he asked, his hands brushing away her damp hair, placing it behind her ears and shoulders so he could get a good look at her face.

Ophelia nodded, the burning sensation already starting to fade. She took some deep breaths of clean air and then looked back to where Jack was standing. He was now joined by Elizabeth, Pintel, Ragetti, and Norrington, and the _Dutchman's_ crew surrounded them.

"Jack has the heart, Will," she murmured. "We must get it back from him."

"We?" repeated Will, raising an eyebrow. "So do you accept my alliance, then?"

Ophelia laughed at the facetious grin he had plastered on his face. She nodded and responded, "Yes, Will. Of course I do."

"Excellent. Then let's go get it, shall we?'

Without any other conversation, the two barreled toward the quartet. When Will was close enough, he stabbed a _Dutchman_ member in the back. Ophelia simply ducked underneath their arms and wormed her way through the crowd to reach the others, but Will, for all his skill in swordplay, could not defeat them all.

Seeing the stalemate, Elizabeth gasped, "We're not getting out of this."

"Not with the chest," added Norrington. The man then seized the chest—which, Ophelia noted, had the key in the keyhole—and commanded, "Into the boat!"

"You're mad!" exclaimed Elizabeth.

Ophelia realized what Norrington was offering to do. He was going to sacrifice himself for the rest of them, to draw them off with the empty chest. She knew perfectly well that Jack had the heart somewhere, and Norrington would be dying for nothing—she opened her mouth to say as much, but Norrington cut her off by saying, "Ophelia Bennett."

She blinked, unsure why he would address her.

"If our paths do not cross again, I would like to confirm Lord Beckett's opinion that you are, in fact, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Uh—" exclaimed Ophelia, but that was all she got to say before he turned to everyone else and added, "Don't wait for me."

Then he was weaving his way away from the boat, the _Dutchman's_ angry crew storming after him.

Once they were a sufficient distance away, Jack wasted no time in saying, "I say we should respect his final wish."

A chorus of "aye" followed this statement, and the remaining six piled into the boat… although as they rowed away, Ophelia felt guilty for allowing the Commodore to practically kill himself for something he would never receive.

* * *

Hello again, dearies! I'm so grateful to you for reading this far and keeping up with the story despite my horridly long absences. You're the best! I hope everyone had a great holiday season and a wonderful new year while I was gone.

Now, I'm going to give you a little author info here... I've got a few more tricks up my sleeve regarding this emerging "love triangle." Just you be patient! Fun things will happen sooner or later with a certain person. Or maybe **_people?_** Who knows? I do of course, but I can't tell you any more, or else I'll spoil all the fun! ;)

Thanks again for reading, wonderful people. Until next chapter!

~Avalain Nightshade


	17. Chapter 16

The moment they were all aboard the _Pearl_ once more, they were engaged by Gibbs, who instantly demanded to know what happened. He was soon updated, and he seemed satisfied by the account until he laid eyes on Will and Ophelia and blanched.

"W-weren't they on—" he began to ask, but Jack put up a hand to shut him up before walking to the helm, possessively coveting that jar of dirt.

There it was. Ophelia was certain now. The jar of dirt was where he kept the heart.

She couldn't help but smirk. It was clever, admittedly. Jones himself wouldn't be able to retrieve it from within the jar.

But she could.

Gibbs's voice shook her out of her reverie: "The bright side is you're back, and made it off free and clear!"

So of course he jinxed it. The exact second he finished saying this, a roar of sound crashed into everyone's ears. It was recognizably water, and it was so powerful it caused the _Pearl_ to rock back and forth dangerously. Ophelia was so startled by its suddenness that she had to grasp the railing to prevent from falling over.

When she regained her balance and looked over the starboard side of the ship, her heart fell.

It was the _Dutchman,_ emerged from underneath the waves. And aboard the deck of the ship was the crew in its entirety, including its Captain, who was staring at the _Pearl_ with a malevolence so fierce it made Ophelia's skin crawl. Almost immediately, Jones locked eyes with Ophelia; the both of them steeled their expressions so neither could determine what the other was thinking or feeling. They were both quite adept at it, as well.

Jack seemed to notice this and gently but firmly pushed Ophelia aside. Softly, he murmured, "I'll handle this, lassie."

He then raised the jar of dirt like a trophy and shouted, "Oi, fishface! Lose something? Eh? _Scungili!_ "

As he said this, he was walking forward—but at this last word, he miscalculated his step and ended up tumbling head over heels down the stairs. A lot of empathetic groans could be heard from the crew of the _Pearl,_ but Jack didn't even seem fazed by the fall as he raised up the jar and exclaimed, "Got it!"

He then popped up once again, still perky and smug as he laughed, "Come to negotiate, eh, you slimy git? Look what I got." Then, in a sing-song voice, he proceeded to proclaim, "I got a jar of di-irt, I got a jar of di-irt, and guess what's inside it?"

Jones glared at Jack before outright disappearing. Everyone gasped at his absence, frantically searching for him. It was Pintel and Ragetti who screamed when Jones reappeared upon the _Pearl,_ standing three feet in front of Ophelia.

Upon seeing her father, Ophelia smiled sadly. "I had a feeling you would do this," she sighed.

"Yeh know what I'm here to say," said the Captain of the _Dutchman,_ the normally harsh edge to his voice almost nonexistent. His sea-green eyes were sincere as he continued with, "I don' want to see yeh on this ship."

Ophelia knew exactly what was going to happen to the _Pearl_ the moment that sentence exited his mouth. Her face fell… he was going to blow it to complete nothingness. He wouldn't take the chance of Jack Sparrow escaping him yet again, just in case he really **_did_** have the heart.

But she couldn't leave Will, and she knew that her father would not take him back aboard the _Dutchman_ after his treachery just a few days past.

And so she replied, "I know. But I cannot go."

Jones blinked and stepped forward, pointing his lobster claw at her chest. "Yeh know yeh're only going to end up broken, even if yeh **_do_** survive."

"I am willing to take that chance," whispered Ophelia, her eyes starting to burn. She blinked rapidly to prevent tears from filling them. This was not a time where she could afford to look weak. "I would rather die than live an empty shell."

Her father sighed heavily before shaking his head. "Someday yeh'll realize what a mistake having a heart is. I can see it now, Bennett. Yeh'll wish yeh cut yer heart out just like I did."

Ophelia smiled grimly. "I've made my choices… father."

"Then yeh'll have to live or die by them. If I can spare yeh from a lifetime of misery with a quick death, then so be it. It might even be kinder."

And before she could say anything else, Jones disappeared again.

For a moment, all was silence. Jack sidled up to Ophelia, who was staring blankly at the open air where her father had previously been standing, and muttered, "You really weren't lying."

"I do that quite a lot and yet people are always surprised," replied Ophelia. But she didn't smile or even look at him while she said it.

This was it. She knew that her father had spoken the truth—he didn't intend to let this ship survive. He didn't intend for anyone onboard it to survive. This was her staring death in the face and realizing it was the end.

A clanking of metal and wood sounded then, and she heard Jack intake sharply before giving the order of, "Hard to starboard."

Elizabeth repeated the command as a shout, and the ship began to turn. Ophelia grabbed onto the railing, although she still felt numb even as the _Dutchman's_ cannons fired and the cannonballs impaled the _Pearl._

Gradually, the _Pearl_ began to pull in front of the _Dutchman_ and started to sail swiftly away from the cursed ship. Ophelia watched as the cannonballs continued pursuing them, round after round. As time went on, the number of hits that the _Pearl_ sustained lessened greatly.

Eventually, finding that all was silent and the black sails of Jones's ship were starting to diminish, Ophelia walked toward Jack, who had a smug look on his face. Leaning out over the railing next to him, she asked, "Are we faster?"

"Aye, love. With the wind on our side, we are."

She nodded but said nothing. She watched the silhouette of the _Dutchman_ grow farther and farther until it was all but gone.

Once they reached this point, the crew of the _Pearl_ commenced to cheer. After all, they had escaped the range of the cannons, and would at least avoid certain death for now.

But Ophelia, watching all the celebration around her, gained another pit in her stomach. One that was worse than the last.

It was explained when Jones suddenly stood in front of her yet again.

"This is the last time I'll ask yeh, Ophelia," he said quietly, yet above all the rattle. Whilst some of the _Pearl's_ members had noticed Jones's presence and had quickly sobered up, the news had not yet spread to them all. "If yeh remain here, yeh'll die."

Ophelia sighed and looked back out over the sea. She knew what was coming.

But she knew that if she chose her own life over Will's, and chose to save herself and live alone, she would return to being the empty husk of a person she was when she'd thought he'd died. And she would **_not_** be that helpless again, that broken, that utterly lifeless.

She felt as if she'd lived without a soul for those hours. She would rather die Ophelia Bennett, the daughter of the sea, who lived a voyage to be proud of, than live as someone she couldn't recognize.

"I know, father," she responded quietly, without looking at him. "But I can't."

There was a brief silence. By this time, everyone noted Jones's presence again. But after a split second, Jones began to chuckle.

Ophelia glanced at him, admittedly surprised. But then he offered her a half-smile and said, "Yer mother would be proud. She was loyal to the death."

And then he was gone again, and the crew visibly relaxed.

The second he was gone, Ophelia turned to Will and Jack, who were standing next to each other. They had been stiff as a board the entire time Jones was next to her, as if afraid that he'd hurt her should she refuse his offer.

Ophelia's next words filled them with even greater fear.

"He will send the Kraken."

Will's expression grew resolute. He stood shock still for half a second before rushing towards the rest of the crew, screaming instructions to brace up the foreyard and run out the cannons.

Jack, however, was clearly afraid. But he laughed nervously and pulled the jar of dirt closer to his chest, as if it were a tangible token of comfort. He then sauntered next to Ophelia and said, "Please, love. Why should we fear that beastie and fight… when we can negotiate?"

The minute he said this, however, a giant _THUMP_ rattled the ship, and the jar of dirt slipped from Jack's grasp. The glass shattered and scattered across the deck, leaving the sand inside it clumped upon the wood.

The Captain moaned and threw himself upon his knees, frantically searching through the dirt for the heart that he had put within it. But there was something wrong.

It wasn't there.

Ophelia's eyes widened, and Jack met her gaze. This was the first time she had ever seen him feel true fear, seen him feel vulnerable. When he looked at her, he didn't even bother to conceal how he really felt. It was here that Ophelia saw just how afraid he was of death and judgment for all the things he had done during the worst of his pirating days.

Before he could speak, Ophelia knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. She heard Will shouting instructions on the other side of the ship, asking for help, but this was something she had to do first.

"Jack," she said softly. "This is not the end."

"It's the bloody **_Kraken,_** of course it's the end!" he snapped.

"No. It's not." As she spoke, Ophelia was careful to keep her voice as calm as possible, to make her words as sincere as she was able. "There is a chance to fight it. There is always a chance to fight death, so long as one fool is willing to stand up against it. We are those fools, Jack. You are not alone."

"And if we fail, love?" groaned the Captain, unable to look Ophelia in the eye. "What awaits us then?"

Ophelia chuckled halfheartedly. "That is the great question, Jack. But I think what awaits us is… whatever we want to await us. We have the power to comfort ourselves with our faith. It is a macabre faith, to be sure, but it is powerful because of it. I personally believe that what awaits us is a ship. A silver ship, sailing over an endless sea. The water is calm and serene, and the sky is tinted white along with blue. And all we can feel then is… peace."

As she spoke, she noticed that the Captain began to breathe deeply. His shoulders lost some of their tension, and, it might've just been a trick of the light, but she could've sworn she saw him smile, just slightly.

"I've… never told anyone that before," admitted Ophelia. "But… I feel like I can tell you. Despite all that's happened since I've met you, I'd still like to consider you my friend."

With this last, Jack finally looked at her. His eyes took in the hopeful smile upon Ophelia's face and he opened his mouth to speak—

But at that exact moment, Will's voice shouted, " ** _FIRE!_** " and the cannons of the _Pearl_ all exploded as one.

Ophelia and Jack started and looked up only to see that they had been so busy talking, they'd completely missed the fact that the Kraken's tentacles were looming up in the air. But when the cannons fired, the tentacles recoiled and a shriek from underwater ripped through the air before the slimy arms retreated underneath the sea.

Once they were gone, the crew of the _Pearl_ began to cheer restlessly. Ophelia grinned and looked at Jack, who was smiling as well, looking at her. She saw the appreciation in his gaze, even if he would never say it aloud.

She stood and offered him a hand. Jack took it, and as Ophelia helped him up, she said, "As I promised, Jack. We can fight death, if we are brave enough to do so. Will you join us in that fight?"

"I believe your previous choice of words was 'foolish,'" remarked Jack, but he offered her his typical half-smirk all the same. Ophelia laughed at his words and allowed the Captain to swing an arm around her shoulders.

Together, they approached Will, who had been watching them with a somewhat stony look on his face. When they arrived, Will asked rather petulantly, "What are your orders, Captain?"

"Don't let me get in the way, William. You seem to know what you're doing."

Will smirked at this and looked around at those who had congregated amongst them. Standing beside Will was Elizabeth, and Marty and Cotton were next to her. Pintel and Ragetti were staring, wide-eyed, at him, and Jack and Ophelia and Gibbs were across.

Seeing that he was left in charge, Will instructed, "Pull the grates. Get all the gunpowder onto the net in the cargo hold!"

Everyone rushed off to do as he spoke except for Ophelia, Elizabeth, and Jack. They all watched Will, and it was Ophelia who asked what they were all thinking.

"Do you think this will kill it?"

"Perhaps not, but it might give us time to escape," he replied. "The Kraken destroyed the boats, save the longboat. That's all that's left, and until we're completely clear, we must fight it."

After this, Will turned to Elizabeth and slapped a musket in her hands. "Whatever you do, don't miss," he said, a meaningful look in his eyes.

Elizabeth nodded gravely, offering him a hopeless smile.

Ophelia felt her nose twitch, but she also felt Jack pat her arm due to the arm around her shoulder. She looked at the Captain and asked a question with her eyes—

"I'm not going anywhere, love," he simpered, stepping back and holding his arms out extravagantly. "After all, if the _Pearl's_ going down, it'd make a **_fine_** shanty: the famous Captain Jack Sparrow going down with his ship."

It took a little less than fifteen minutes for all the gunpowder and rum to be stocked in the cargo hold. There had been a lot of commotion at the waste of perfectly good rum, but it was eventually done and everything was ready.

An ominous dread settled over the _Pearl_ as everyone waited for the gargantuan beast. There were only a few sparse whispers to be heard… Ophelia stood beside Jack and Will and Elizabeth, all four of them poised on the hull, keeping a watch on the water.

"When do you think it will come back?" asked Elizabeth.

"Soon," replied Ophelia. "I'd give it five minutes. Maybe less."

"That's not a lot of time, is it?" grumbled Jack, still less than pleased with the possibility that he might die in the fight.

Will chuckled darkly. "Maybe not, but it's all we have."

Ophelia breathed out through her nose. It was the closest she could get to a laugh at this point in time. She debated for a moment whether or not the crew actually had a chance of survival… the Kraken had revealed that it was vulnerable—even defeatable—but the reality was that Will's plan **_had_** to go accordingly, or everyone would die.

"Will, if we survive this…" But Ophelia trailed off. Now would be the perfectly logical time to tell him, wouldn't it?

But still she couldn't. Cursing herself for being a coward, she then finished with, "Remind me to kick your ass for this plan."

Will laughed and shook his head, but replied, "As if **_you_** had a better idea."

"Fair enough," Ophelia allowed. She noticed that the corners of her lips were turning upward. She turned to look at her friend then and smirked. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to kick your ass, though."

Before Will could retort, the ship rumbled and swayed dangerously. The Kraken's tentacles spiked up from the water and immediately disabled the cannons.

The moment Will saw its emergence, he screamed, " ** _HEAVE!_** "

The men who were positioned down below began to push the wheel that would raise the net filled with gunpowder and rum. Slowly, it rose above the deck—but it needed to be higher.

This was made difficult when the Kraken, seeing that the cannons were destroyed, decided to start targeting the people on deck.

Ophelia and Jack withdrew their swords, slicing at tentacles that came too near. Elizabeth waited behind him, her eyes bright and wide as she clutched the musket that Will had entrusted her with and did her best to remain ready for the command to shoot. Will himself barreled down the steps towards the men to help them haul the cargo upwards.

As worried as Ophelia was about him, she knew she couldn't be distracted now. She and Jack needed to work together to fend off the beast's slippery arms.

If Elizabeth was killed, or if the musket was lost, so were they all.

Over and over again the tentacles slammed into the ship, causing a lot of havoc and mayhem regarding balance and the overall structure of the _Pearl._ With each time the ship shuddered, Jack seemed to grow more and more enraged until he was battling as fiercely as a sea demon itself, a frightening snarl upon his face.

Screams tore through the air as crewmen were seized by the tentacles or dragged underwater to drown. Gunshots were loud and reverberated in Ophelia's ears, fueling her desperation to continue taking down the Kraken's many arms.

There soon came a time when Ophelia herself was grabbed, but before it could drag her anywhere, Jack lunged forward and sliced the appendage clean off.

"Thank you, Jack," gasped Ophelia.

"Anytime, love!" he grunted, already repelling another limb. As he did so, however, he apparently decided, in the middle of a battle with a blasted sea squid, to ask, "By the way, I never got to ask—are you alright after your little spill on the _Dutchman?_ "

Ophelia spluttered indignantly. "You put me there!"

"You forced me to!" returned Jack petulantly, stepping towards her and thrusting his sword past her ear. Ophelia gasped at the Captain's closeness and stared at him until he gestured past her head.

She turned around just in time to see one of the Kraken's tentacles retreating from perhaps three feet from her head, back into the ocean.

"Oh…" she heard herself murmur. Restraining a smirk that also doubled as a grateful smile, Ophelia repeated, "Thank you, Jack."

The Captain winked at her and bowed. "Anytime, lassie."

He then began to turn away, but suddenly he stopped. He turned on his heels and pointed at Ophelia and raised an eyebrow before slurring, "Didn't I promise you something for when you returned from the _Dutchman?_ "

"Can't think of a thing," retorted Ophelia, watching the Captain's movements. She appraised Jack's smug stature and expression as he tiptoed closer, lightly tapping her on the nose, but she maintained composure. She knew this game. In order to play, she had to think like Jack.

"I believe I promised you an exciting return," he murmured, making sure no one could hear him. The sounds of screaming and splashing still made sure that they wouldn't be overheard, but Ophelia felt that this was **_definitely_** something she wouldn't want anyone else to hear. "I'll have to get on that as soon as we get out of this little scrap, won't I?"

Ophelia swallowed, but allowed herself to leer somewhat. "Who says I want it, Captain?"

Jack laughed and stepped backward. "Maybe you won't want it now, Ophelia. But mark my words—someday, you will."

She shook her head and smirked and was about to respond, but just then, she heard Will's voice shouting, "Shoot! Elizabeth, shoot!"

Ophelia looked over where his voice was, and her heart almost stopped.

Will's leg was caught in the netting of the cargo hold, and he was trying to cut himself free, but the piddly knife he had was making little progress. The majority of the Kraken's tentacles were snaking around the net. It was clearly time to shoot, if the plan was to work.

But Elizabeth, frightened enough as it was, couldn't make the shot with Will's life in the balance.

Just then, she flopped onto the deck. For a moment, Ophelia thought she'd fainted—but then she realized one of the Kraken's tentacles had grabbed hold of her ankle and was dragging her towards the sea.

With an angry cry, Ophelia launched forward and sliced the beast's arm off.

Elizabeth scrambled back to her feet, pausing to give Ophelia a nod of thanks. She then searched for the musket she had dropped—only to find that Jack had located it and was standing, holding it and aiming.

Ophelia shrieked and was about to beg him not to shoot yet, but just as Jack pulled the trigger, Will dropped to the ground, unharmed.

The explosion that followed was deafening. A bright smear of orange and yellow of fire filled the sky, and it sounded as if a dozen cannonballs were being fired at once. Ophelia yelped aloud and covered her ears, although it didn't do much good in blocking out the sound. On top of that, the light of the fire's sudden appearance scorched the eyes of all who were watching. Ophelia couldn't even locate Will on the deck of the ship to see if he was alright.

When at last the spectacle diminished, everyone could see the Kraken's tentacles waving aimlessly and without force. They were scorched badly, some of the flame lingering on its skin. With a great moan, they sank back into the ocean.

It took a moment for everyone to realize it was safe. Ophelia was the first to recover—she rushed down the deck to Will and helped him to stand. He groaned loudly and muttered, "Thanks, Ophie."

But then, grinning sideways, he asked, "Are you still going to kick my ass?"

"I daresay that explosion did that well enough for me to be satisfied," retorted Ophelia, rolling her eyes at the barely restrained smugness on his face.

He chuckled then and groaned, obviously impacted from the force of the explosion. Using Ophelia as support, he slowly stood up and wiped some of the grime from his face. With a deep breath, he exhaled, "It's over… for now. We must decide what to do next."

* * *

Hello my lovely readers! As always, I am not-so-fashionably late with my updating... I don't know why you all put up with me. ;) Anyhow, here is the next installment! I hope you all enjoy, and of course, thank you so much for reading and for supplying your wonderful feedback for me. I always love to hear from you.

I hope everyone has a fabulous Valentine's Day coming up! Thank you so much again.

Farewell for now,

~Avalain Nightshade


	18. Chapter 17

Slowly but surely, the shock of the attack began to wear off from all the survivors. Once they had more or less recuperated, they gathered around the middle of the deck.

Ophelia glanced among the faces: Jack, Elizabeth, Marty, Cotton, Pintel, Ragetti, Gibbs, herself, and Will.

Only nine of the entire ship had survived… although the Kraken was gone and they had survived, Ophelia felt a pit in the bottom of her stomach, telling her that the fight wasn't yet over.

"Did we kill it?" asked Marty, struggling to reach over the railings of the ship to glance at the sea below.

Gibbs shook his head. "No… We just made it angry. We're not out of this yet. Captain, orders!"

With this last exclamation, everyone snapped to look at the Captain, who blinked. After a moment, he sighed and muttered, "Abandon ship. Into the longboat."

"Jack!" exclaimed Ophelia, rushing forward and grabbing his arm. The Captain stopped walking, turning his head only slightly to look at her. He was surprised by her interjection, this much she could tell, but he soon became shocked when she continued, "Don't leave behind the _Pearl…_ it's your ship. We can still defend it!"

Jack laughed lowly and shrugged Ophelia's hand off of his arm. "It's possible," he acknowledged. "But I'm not willing to take that risk, love. I won't be responsible for any more lives lost on this ship."

Before Ophelia could argue, he was walking away again. For a moment, everyone simply watched as he righted the upended longboat and started to push it overboard.

The _splash_ was what made everyone jolt and return to themselves… It was Gibbs who said first, "Aye… abandon ship or abandon hope."

"But that's a lot of open water!" gasped Pintel.

Will pushed past the man and said, "We have to try. We can get away as it takes down the _Pearl._ "

He began to help Jack lower the ladder over the _Pearl_ for safe descent. Seeing his resolve, the remainder of the crew rushed forward to help.

With the seven extra people, lowering the ladder and preparing for evacuation took almost no time at all. As they worked, Ophelia looked at Jack and Will, both of whom had near identical expressions of determination on their faces. She couldn't help but chuckle to herself; for all the exasperation they held for one another, they still thought alike at times.

"Go on, lassie," said Jack. Ophelia snapped to look at her and saw, for some foreboding reason, that his eyes were sad as he added, "I'll be right behind you."

Ophelia blinked, not swayed. "Do you promise?"

Jack chuckled. "Aye, lassie. I'll be right down."

After a brief moment of glancing at him, Ophelia nodded. She then climbed down the ladder after Ragetti and into the longboat, sitting beside him and Will.

"Ophelia," muttered Will. "We still need to talk about our deal."

She nodded, but did not look at him. "Yes, though not with Jack so close."

"Agreed."

"Oi, Turner! Help me grab these here supplies," shouted Gibbs.

Before Ophelia could say anything more, Will smiled at her and rose to grab the telescope and what food rations still remained. Ophelia—not to be left behind—soon followed, yanking the telescope from Gibbs before Will could. When her friend glared at her, she merely smirked and raised an eyebrow, the way she often would in the forge whenever she would slap some ash on his shirt or apron.

Will laughed softly and shook his head—but then he abruptly stopped.

Ophelia, startled by his sudden solemnness, followed his gaze and gasped.

Elizabeth held Jack's face in her hands, and was kissing him passionately. The two walked out of eyesight after that, but Ophelia knew what she saw, and she knew that Will had seen it too.

She immediately glanced at Will to see what his reaction would be. His face was stony and had lost all sort of joyfulness or hope. He looked defeated, almost, and it crushed Ophelia to see him so empty. After all they had gone through to free this woman and all Will had risked to marry her, she betrayed him for Jack.

"Come on, let's sit down," grumbled Will.

Ophelia didn't want to upset her friend any more so than he already was, so she grabbed the last sack that Gibbs held out and sat back down in the longboat, placing the bag on her lap. She didn't say a word. There wasn't really anything to say.

And although she knew she had no reason to feel so herself, Ophelia too felt betrayed. She didn't know why, precisely, but the feeling sat like a stone deep in her stomach, churning it into painful knots.

The next couple of minutes were spent in awkward silence as everyone just solemnly gazed at each other. It was clear to Ophelia that only she and Will had seen what they had, but it created a rift between them, deeper than any they'd created before. What terrified Ophelia most was that she wasn't sure if the rift was between Will and Elizabeth, or between Will and **_herself._**

At long last, Elizabeth shimmied down the ladder, her eyes bloodshot. Ophelia longed to throw a glare her direction, but now was not the time.

Besides, Will seemed to take care of that for her as he shot, "Where's Jack?" and looked at her sternly.

Elizabeth swallowed and glanced back up at the deck before answering, "He elected to stay behind to give us a chance."

Ophelia inhaled sharply. Jack had promised he'd be right after them.

"No," spat Ophelia, her eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you."

"Go ask him for yourself, then," returned Elizabeth, though she looked sad.

Ophelia shot her another glare and prepared to ascend the ladder, but Will grabbed her hand and insisted, "We don't have any more time. If Jack wants to remain on the ship and fight, then we should let him. We have to go."

"But…"

Yet Ophelia paused. She saw how much Will was hurting from what he'd seen, and she didn't want to bring him any more pain. And if she delayed their departure to bring the man that his own fiancée was in love with, that would be another twist of the knife already buried in his side.

But the feeling in her conscience wouldn't let up.

"I'm sorry, Will," sighed Ophelia. "But I have to make sure."

Ophelia couldn't help but notice that Elizabeth's eyes widened slightly as she stood up and began climbing the ladder. With each step she took, the lead weight in her stomach grew heavier.

At last, she was on deck. The wreckage truly was desolate… Ophelia scoured the deck and at last, she saw Jack standing by the mast, gazing out over the ocean.

"Jack!" she cried, darting forward. "Hurry up, or you'll miss our leave!"

With these words, she grabbed his hand and started to pull him away—but as abruptly as she seized his arm, she was forced to let it go. Both she and Jack yelped as Ophelia tripped and landed painfully on the deck, and Jack landed over a pile of splintered wood.

Groaning, Ophelia rose back to her feet, staring confusedly at Jack. Her gaze raked over his form—her eyes widened upon seeing the shackles restraining his wrist.

"What…" she croaked, stumbling forward towards him. Jack chuckled and stood up too, his brown eyes glaring heatedly at the device. At last, Ophelia was able to finish saying, "How did this happen?"

"Well, darling, who do you **_think_** tied me up here?" he retorted.

Ophelia sighed and shook her head. She should've **_known_** Elizabeth was up to something.

She had to tell Will. But again… she'd broken his heart. Would telling Will the truth about Elizabeth and Jack's kiss make things any better for him? Or would it just make him even more bitter?

But she put those thoughts aside. Right now, Jack had to be her priority.

"Is there a key to this?" she asked desperately.

Jack shook his head. "No, love. I lost it ages ago. And even if it was still on the ship… good luck finding it now."

He waved a hand toward the decimated remains of the poor _Pearl,_ and his eyes grew sad. As soon as the sadness arrived, however, it left, replaced by worry.

"You should get out of here, love," murmured Jack. "The beastie's coming for me. I know it."

"No!" exclaimed Ophelia, almost stamping her foot in protest. "You promised you would come with us!"

"I also promised you that I would help William," Jack reminded her, using his free hand to scratch his head. His familiar half-smirk appeared on his face as he added, "I won't lie, lassie, I'm rather flattered that you still trust my ratty promises."

Ophelia huffed. He **_did_** have a point. Still, she answered, "A promise is a promise, Jack. I won't start disbelieving them, even **_if_** they are coming from you. Now how do I get you out of here?"

Jack laughed again and shook his head, looking curiously at Ophelia and her determination. It was obvious in every fiber of her being—the way she stood, the way her arms were crossed, the way she was glaring. But despite all that, he replied, "You don't, love. It'll be over soon enough. My only regret is I didn't get to give you your little present."

"Oh, yes, such a shame," muttered Ophelia, rolling her eyes. But she looked at Jack again and saw how unready he was to die, and asked, "Is there anything else I can do?"

Jack smirked and pointed at his cheek.

She huffed somewhat. "Jack—"

"Oh, come now, darling. Surely you won't be so heartless as to withhold a dying man's last wish?"

As much as he got under her skin at times, Ophelia couldn't help but laugh. She uncrossed her arms and stepped forward before gently kissing Jack on the cheek and stepping back again.

The Captain looked at her again, although this time there was a little more vulnerability in his eyes. Ophelia felt the weight in her stomach grow heavier… she knew there was not much time left.

With a sigh, she said sadly, "I refuse to believe you will die here. I cannot promise you I will find you, Jack. But that won't stop me from looking. I can promise that much. After all… we are friends, aren't we?"

"Sure, love," replied Jack. His smirk reoccupied his face. "That won't stop me from trying to become **_more._** "

Ophelia rolled her eyes again, but despite her resolve, she found herself smiling.

"You are about to be…"

But she couldn't finish the sarcastic remark she had lined up. The lump in her throat prevented her from making it.

"I know," Jack interrupted, sparing her from her silence. After that, however, he immediately shouted, "Oi, Turner! Come get your insistently stubborn damsel here! I'm trying to be heroic and she's preventing my grand exit!"

As soon as Jack stopped shouting, Will appeared on deck. His eyes were unreadable as he looked at Ophelia, and she felt herself shrink with sadness at his expression. Still, she turned back to Jack, if only to say goodbye.

Before she could, however, Jack grinned and bowed dramatically, the way he always liked to in order to leave a lasting impression.

"In another life, love," he said, and then he turned away from her and continued to look out over the sea.

Ophelia swallowed, not quite sure how to say farewell to a man who was all but condemning himself to death. All she could settle with was, "Goodbye, Jack. And thank you."

The corners of his lips barely turned up, but it was enough for her to see.

"Come on, Ophelia. We must go."

Ophelia knew in her heart that it was time. She tore her gaze away from the Captain of the _Pearl_ and back toward Will, her childhood friend.

Before long, they were both sitting back in the longboat. Elizabeth was glancing apprehensively at Ophelia, as if wondering whether she would spill her secrets.

But now was not the time.

And so Ophelia simply said, "Let's go."

The crew looked back up at the _Pearl,_ pain in their eyes, but they did as she commanded. Before long, the longboat was drifting away from the dark ship, slowly and steadily making its way towards the island.

After about five to ten minutes of rowing, there was a shudder throughout the water. Gibbs and Cotton stopped pulling the oars and looked back at the ship. Everyone else did the same, identical looks of fear and uncertainty on their grimy faces.

Ophelia noticed the slight wave of the sea that signaled the arrival of the Kraken. It made a beeline for the _Pearl,_ but instead of outright attacking, the crew could only watch as it lifted its entire body almost out of the water and roared.

The roar was just as deafening as Gibbs had once described it. Ophelia felt herself shudder, and she involuntarily leaned closer to Will. He looked down at her with a somber look on his face, but he was also determined to see the entire thing.

Ophelia turned back to the _Pearl_ to see that the beast was beginning to swallow the entire ship. She threw her hands up to her throat and mouth, horrified by the process.

This was what Will might have gone through, if he hadn't escaped.

But now it was Jack who suffered that fate, and Ophelia felt terrible.

There was nothing anyone could do as the ship was drug underneath the waves, Jack along with it. It was clear there was no fighting the Kraken, or the _Dutchman_ or its crew.

Jack was gone.

Ophelia exhaled and coughed to restrain a sob. She should've done something more to free Jack—the farewell he left her made her heart sink deep in her chest.

She looked at Will again, who still looked angry… but now he seemed slightly sad too. After all, they **_had_** gone through so much together, even if they weren't always perhaps on the same side.

"What do we do now?" Ophelia heard herself ask.

The rest of the crew looked at her; it was Gibbs who said, "I recommend we stop by Tia Dalma's again. She might… have something that could help us."

It was a desperate thought, and Gibbs clearly knew it. But no one else had any idea what to do, and so Will took control and declared, "That sounds like a good idea. To Tia Dalma's it is."

Cotton and Gibbs began rowing again, this time with a bit more speed and vigor. Even a desperate hope was better than none, apparently.

Ophelia couldn't help but chuckle to herself. After six years of unrequited and unreciprocated love, and after going through so much, she knew when a situation was hopeless.

This was hopeless.

But for the sake of the friends she'd made, she didn't say so aloud. Instead, she looked out over the ocean to where the _Pearl_ had been sitting.

It was as calm and quiet as possible, as if Jack hadn't just been dragged under the waters to his death.

* * *

Wow, talk about sadness. I was dreading writing this part for a while, I'll be honest. That being said, I hope you all still enjoyed it despite that. As always, thanks for getting this far! You're the bee's knees. :)

Luckily for us all, my spring break is slowly creeping around the corner, and during that time, I'm gonna get as much writing done as possible. Hopefully that will mean more frequent updates! Yay! Someone hold me to that...

Have a wonderful day, friends. Until the next time.

~Avalain Nightshade


	19. Chapter 18

It took nearly two weeks to travel on foot to where Tia Dalma's cottage was. The former crew of the _Pearl_ had spent most of the time silent and reclusive, even from each other, their friends.

Ophelia noticed that she and Will were no exceptions. Although they sat by the fires together and sat next to each other every time they made camp, very little conversation was made between them. It was like the _Dutchman_ all over again, except with less physical labor and more sadness shared in the space they occupied.

The silence was killing Ophelia by the time they reached Tia Dalma's hut. The crew of the _Pearl_ were all haggard and weary from their long trek, but they all perked up considerably when they approached the front steps.

Before they could even knock, Tia Dalma answered the door, her eyes wide and filled with sorrow.

"Do not tell me what 'as happened," she said gravely. "I already know."

"Then you know that we may need help before we decide what to do next," said Will. After the loss of Jack, the remainder of the crew had been looking to him to lead, and he had been all but forced to step up to the task.

Tia Dalma nodded and gestured them all inside—even Ophelia. Gratefully, they stepped inside the hut, which had been cleaned very thoroughly since the last time they had visited. There was no more junk on the floor or on the tables; in fact, everything was practically sparkling clean.

"Please, take a seat," she sighed. "Use any room."

The crew nodded blankly. Cotton, Ragetti, and Pintel all began shuffling to the seats around the table. Gibbs sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. Marty sat on the table. Elizabeth, Will, and Ophelia remained standing for a bit.

Ophelia glanced at Will, wondering what he was going to do now that they'd reached Tia Dalma's. She'd already decided that she would follow him, no matter what he wanted to do. When she looked at him, she noticed that he lightly gestured to the room next to the others.

She nodded and walked towards the small chairs in the other room before sitting down. Will waited for a couple minutes before following her—Elizabeth didn't seem to notice, and if she did, apparently she didn't care. Instead, she found a couch in the main room and sat there, her arms folded across her chest.

"What is it?" whispered Ophelia once it was just her and Will.

"Our deal. We haven't yet discussed it," he answered.

Ophelia blinked. It had been two weeks that they'd been travelling, and since they'd barely spoken, she had completely forgotten about the deal that they had once proposed.

"I don't think it matters anymore," she sighed, disheartened. "The heart is gone, Will. Jack is gone, too. What chance do we have at finding it again?"

Will's face became slightly stony and his fists clenched. "I won't believe that, Ophelia. I made a promise to my father that I would free him from his enslavement. I must fulfill it."

Ophelia sighed seeing the determination on his face. "Very well," she yielded. "I know this means a lot to you. Therefore, I shall go with you if you will have me. But my point remains—how are we going to do that?"

"I… do not yet know," he replied, leaning back in his chair, another hopeless expression on his face. "But I have to believe there is a way."

Knowing that she would have to hold Will up for a while—even though her own heart was hurting with the loss of her friend—she leaned forward and muttered, "Perhaps Jack left something behind in a place that meant something to him. Maybe he dropped something on the Isla de Cruces."

Will nodded blankly, although it appeared that he didn't even register her words. Silently, he withdrew his knife and chucked it, point first, into the wooden table they were positioned around. The weapon made a dull _thunk!_ as it embedded itself into the light wood.

He continued to do this for a few minutes. Ophelia watched him carefully and could see that underneath his eagerness to rescue his father, there was something else darker that was bothering him.

She knew it was Elizabeth. But she also knew that she couldn't bring it up.

Not yet, at least.

To make sure another silence couldn't settle in, Ophelia began to hum an eerie tune, one she recognized from somewhere on the _Dutchman._ She tapped her fingers on the table in the melody's rhythm, hoping to distract herself from her own thoughts.

Not another minute passed before Tia Dalma entered the room, carrying a tray of steaming mugs. She placed the tray on the table and reached for a mug to place on the table—but then she froze.

"Where… did you hear that song?" she asked, turning to face Ophelia.

Ophelia blinked and swallowed uneasily, noting the harsh glaze in Tia Dalma's eyes. But she knew that this woman could detect lies easily, and so there was no other choice except for her to reply truthfully, "I heard it from a music box aboard the _Dutchman._ "

Tia Dalma straightened up and leaned back, a satisfied sheen in her eyes. She then did something that Ophelia would **_never_** have expected: she smiled at her.

"Thank you," she replied, although Tia Dalma didn't specify what she was thanking her for. She then placed a mug of herbal tea in front of both Will and Ophelia and began to move into the other room.

Before she passed through the doorway, however, she turned around and looked at Will. A look of sympathy passed through her face as she murmured, "It's a shame. I know you're thinking that with the _Pearl_ , you could have captured the devil and set free your father's soul."

"I still believe it," Will retorted fiercely. He clumped the knife back into the table one more time, a resolute look streamed across his face. But when he spoke next, he was recognizably more defeated. "But the _Pearl_ is now gone… along with its Captain."

Ophelia sighed and looked down. With Jack, saving Bootstrap certainly would've been possible.

Without him, she wasn't so sure.

Gibbs raised his mug then and exclaimed, "Aye, and already the world seems a bit less bright. He fooled us all right till the end, but I guess that honest streak finally won out. To Jack Sparrow!"

"Never another like Captain Jack," lamented Ragetti.

"He was a gentleman of fortune, he was," added Pintel.

"He was a good man," choked Elizabeth's voice from the other room.

Will's eyes grew sad again and he rose from the table and walked into the other room. Ophelia grabbed her mug and tried not to focus on the stab of pain in her heart when he walked toward Elizabeth and looked at her with concern.

"If there was anything could be done to bring him back… Elizabeth," murmured Will, kneeling next to her as if to ask if she would do it.

Before she could respond, Tia Dalma butted in. "Would you do it?" she persisted. "Hmm? What would you? What would any of you be willing to do, hm? Would you sail to the ends of the Earth and beyond to fetch back witty Jack and him precious _Pearl_?"

Everyone glanced around at the others in the room. It was clear that Pintel, Ragetti, Cotton, Marty, and Gibbs were ready and willing to do exactly that. Ophelia looked at Will and Elizabeth, both of whom were keeping watch on each other's expressions, waiting for any sort of change.

It was Elizabeth who first nodded and answered, "Yes."

Will smiled, although that too was a little sad. He then turned back to Ophelia, who already knew what she wanted to do.

He didn't even have to ask the question before she interrupted, "Yes, I will go as well. Otherwise I would have to return home and attend a wedding I do not even wish to attend."

She did not add how badly she wanted to fulfill the promise she made to Jack… the promise that she would find him.

"Yes, you would, and even if you **_didn't_** want to retrieve Jack, I would by no means allow you to return home to be enslaved," remarked Will, raising an eyebrow in both jesting and concern.

Ophelia rolled her eyes, but otherwise said nothing.

Tia Dalma looked mightily comforted and satisfied as she mused, "All right. But if you go and brave the weird and haunted shores at world's end… then you will need a captain who knows those waters."

As soon as these words were said, there was a thumping from the upstairs of the house. Ophelia jolted, having not expected the sudden sound. She looked up and managed to pinpoint where the staircase was. Like the rest of the crew, her eyes were trained on a pair of black boots that were descending.

Eventually, the rest of the man came forth. He was an older gentlemen, perhaps middle-aged, but it was clear he had seen better days. His garments were somewhat torn save for a black leather-like jacket. The excited, sarcastic gleam in his eye, however, made him appear younger.

"So tell me!" exclaimed the man. Ophelia heard a screech and suddenly noticed that the very death-defying monkey she and Jack had captured off the _Pearl_ was sitting on this man's shoulder. "What's become of my ship?"

"Ophelia, get back!" shouted Will, pulling her behind him, as she had been the one standing closest to the man. She gasped as she was yanked backward and looked at the man to see how he'd take it.

He just sighed and asked, "Old habits, eh, Turner?"

"You can never be too careful," retorted Will.

"And who is this?" asked Ophelia, deciding to make judgments on her own.

Will looked back at her, his eyes somewhat wide and confused. "This is Barbossa—the man I told you about. From the Isla de Muerta."

Ophelia blinked and took in the man again. He raised an eyebrow upon seeing her dark brown eyes appraising him and suavely took a bite of a green apple in his hand. The monkey screeched again and looked at Ophelia sideways.

"Well," exclaimed Ophelia. "There seems to be a problem, Will. He looks rather **_alive,_** wouldn't you agree?"

The man who Will claimed was Barbossa laughed loudly. "A new one this time, eh, Turner? I like this one better."

Elizabeth cleared her throat and stepped forward.

Barbossa looked delighted and snickered, "Apparently I've missed a lot. Someone will have to fill me in on all the **_fun_** when we've got the time. But for now, I believe our main goal is to bring Jack Sparrow back from the end of the world."

"Is there even such a place?" asked Ophelia. She was quite skeptical about all this otherworldly talk. She'd heard of legends, of course, but never once had anyone claimed they were truth, much less that they were going to sail there.

"Of course there is!" retorted Barbossa, almost offended by the question.

"Indeed, there is such a place," affirmed Tia Dalma. "I will go with you to fetch back Jack."

Will looked across to Barbossa and was apparently still unhappy with the idea that the older man was to accompany them. His voice was tough as he inquired, "So do you have an idea of where to sail, then? And where to acquire a ship?"

Barbossa had a gleam in his eye and definitely struck Ophelia as pirate-like. With excitement, he answered, "Aye, we're going to commandeer a ship and the maps. I know exactly where to find both of these things, and so long as we arrange passage, we can go from there."

A silence settled for a moment until Elizabeth asked, "And where will we be going?"

"Singapore," returned Barbossa, a leer on his face.

"Then we shall leave tomorrow," established Will, his eyebrows furrowed. A grumble of assent passed throughout the room, and then everyone returned to where they had been sitting previously, returned to their original stupor. This time, however, there was quite a bit more hope than there had been ten minutes previously. Not all was as quiet; in fact, Ragetti and Pintel were laughing at inappropriate jokes like usual quite soon.

Will and Ophelia returned to the table they'd occupied just moments ago, but this time it was Will who spoke first.

"Do you truly want to go retrieve Jack from the end of the world?" Will's voice was low, and he looked skeptical.

Ophelia, however, nodded. She truly did want to fetch Jack, and for more reasons than one. She soon said this aloud: "Yes, Will. Jack was my friend, and I feel it would be an act that friends would perform, even if perhaps he might not do the same for us. And it would be good for my conscience."

Will sighed and looked around. "I was thinking perhaps we might go and try to free my father ourselves."

"You mean… the three of us?"

"No. The two of us."

This shocked Ophelia beyond all belief. The very reason they had embarked on their quest to find Jack Sparrow was to free Elizabeth and reunite her with Will—and now that they had done that, he wanted to leave her? It didn't make any sense.

And so she replied, "Will, we can't. We have no leverage to force a negotiation with Jones, no ship to get us to him in the first place, and not nearly enough force to fight his crew, should he send them to attack us. The only advantage we have is that I'm his daughter."

He nodded, defeated, and thumped the knife back into the table. His voice was bitter as he said, "Right. You're right."

Ophelia noticed this and felt guilty for shutting down his hopes, although she knew that he was grasping at straws. "Will, I'm sorry to point out the difficulties in this. But your father won't be rescued just by us charging the _Dutchman._ We need to ally ourselves with Jack again to do this."

"I won't be his friend. Not anymore."

"I'm not asking you to be his friend. I'm asking you to tolerate him enough to make an alliance with you—for your father."

These last three words made Will freeze for a split second. He looked into Ophelia's dark brown eyes and saw the urgency and sincerity in them. He sighed.

"Again, you are right…" he trailed off, but then Will chuckled and shook his head. "I still don't know what I would do without you, Ophie."

"You'd go and get yourself killed, that's what," she bantered, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. Will gave her a look, but she only laughed.

"So!" exclaimed a new voice. Ophelia whirled around to see that it was Barbossa, and he was grinning in a gleeful manner. "You'll have to introduce yourself to me, young lass, as I am now your new Captain."

Ophelia raised an eyebrow, but noticed that Will hadn't interjected whenever Barbossa claimed himself as Captain. This made her decide to go with his words—at least for the time being.

"My name is Ophelia. I am a good friend of Will's and a friend of Jack's alike… **_Captain._** "

She purposefully exaggerated the title to show that she wasn't sure yet whether or not to take Barbossa seriously.

As it was, he did not seem to care. With a dramatic bow, he exclaimed, "A good friend, eh? And might we become good friends, Ophelia?"

Ophelia didn't like the emphasis he put in his voice, and thus retorted rather coldly, "A friend perhaps, but friends we shall remain, in the **_proper_** definition of the word. Euphemisms do not become you, Barbossa."

"But we are pirates, less I need to remind you," he smirked. But he seemed to understand the message, and at least for that, Ophelia was grateful.

"Pirates who seek to retrieve Jack Sparrow from the end of the world," she added. "I do hope you know what you're doing."

"Fear not, dear lady!" exclaimed Barbossa. The monkey on his shoulder hopped up and down excitedly. "I know **_exactly_** what I am doing."

He took another bite out of his apple and grinned, leaving Ophelia to smirk and hope that his words would prove true.

* * *

Hello again, friends! So my spring break has come and gone, and I am happy to tell you that I managed to crank out a couple chapters during it! This here is one of them. :) So I've got some more ammunition all ready and waiting, although I am going wait a little bit while I continue to write so that way I don't fall super behind on my updates again. That being said, thanks to all of you who have returned to read this chapter! You're the . It means the world to know you've made it this far; I hope everyone has had great spring breaks of their own. Until the next time-

~Avalain Nightshade


	20. Chapter 19

After a month of planning and travelling, at last the crew was in Singapore. Barbossa had indeed schemed up a master plan, and although it was not entirely reliable and honest, Ophelia and the others would have to be satisfied by it. Surely a risky plan was better than not having one at all.

Over the course of travel, Will and Ophelia had been speaking together about how they might, with Jack's help, regain control of Jones's heart. It was clear that after being subjected to the end of the world, that Jack would want the heart for himself. There would be no bargaining or alliances once the heart was back into play, that much was obvious.

"So we'll have to wait and see how it turns up," muttered Ophelia from the corner of her mouth. Will was rowing in a longboat next to her, and the only other person who was in the boat was Cotton, who couldn't speak and didn't seem to care much about their conversation.

"I agree," remarked Will. He glanced over to the boat on their right—Elizabeth was sitting in it, tall and proud, although she still looked pale and slightly gaunt. Barbossa was rowing in that boat, whistling merrily.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, until Barbossa hissed for them to stop. They gathered on a dock to the side, and he laid out the plan for them once more:

"Turner, you're going to swim underneath these here docks until you locate the entrance to Sao Feng's hideout, aye? And pilfer those damned maps as soon as you can, too. Don't get caught."

Will chuckled. "Stealth is my middle name."

"I thought it was Bartholomew," murmured Ophelia so only he could hear.

Will laughed and glared at her teasingly. "Not that again. I got rid of that seven years ago."

"So you thought."

"Right," interrupted Barbossa, glaring at the two. "If I may finish."

Ophelia waved her hand in a permissive gesture, making sure to smirk mockingly at him as she did. She still hadn't quite warmed up to the idea that Barbossa would be their Captain, even though he had proven himself through the creation of this plan.

"Bennett, you're going to draw their attention. The only way to get an audience with Sao Feng is to force one. Swan, you're with me. We'll sneak around the side and wait for the guards to be distracted to pull our swords on them. The rest of you… don't mess anything up."

There were grunts of affirmation as the plan was told again, and then everyone dispersed. Barbossa tossed two oars to Ophelia so she could continue rowing on the river, but before she could step back into the boat, Will put a hand on her shoulder.

"Be careful," he said, an eyebrow raised.

"I think you should be the careful one," she replied just as coolly.

"Fair enough."

And then Will jumped into the river to begin the plan.

Left alone, Ophelia stepped back into the small longboat. She sat on its bench and positioned the two oars before setting off again, using all the muscle strength she'd built up since leaving Port Royal to propel her vessel through the water.

As she rowed and began to draw closer to what she assumed was Sao Feng's territory, she began to hum the tune that Barbossa had taught her.

 _Some have died and some are alive, others sail on the sea.  
_ _With the keys to the cage and the devil to pay, we lay to Fiddler's Green.  
_ _The bell has been raised from its watery grave hear its sepulchral tone._

The men close to the shore heard her tune and seemed to turn away from Ophelia immediately. She noticed there were surprised looks on their faces. Swiftly, she rowed past them, determined to continue her portion of the plan.

 _A call to all pay heed the squall, turn your sails to home.  
_ _Yo ho, haul together, hoist the colors high! Heave-ho—_

"Thief and beggar! Never shall we die," finished a harsh voice.

Hearing the voice, Ophelia restrained a smirk and docked her longboat. Ahead of her was a bridge, and a few men were crossing it, tossing her looks of fear as they scurried onward. The man who had spoken watched her dock the boat, his eyes narrowed and full of malice. He was a thin man, and not particularly threatening save for his thin voice.

Once Ophelia was on land, she raised her chin and looked coolly at the man, who was hissing, "A dangerous song to be singing for any who are ignorant of its meaning… particularly a woman! Particularly a woman alone!"

That was when a sword was withdrawn and Barbossa's voice exclaimed from behind the man, "What makes you think she's alone?"

Ophelia smirked. Punctual as always, the Captain was. Elizabeth was standing behind him, ready to interfere should things go wrong.

Hearing Barbossa's voice, the man whirled around. His anger no longer turned to Ophelia, he snarled, "You protect her?"

Barbossa smirked and replied, "Aye. And your master is expecting us, so I wouldn't recommend hurting her or anything of the like."

The man snorted and spit in the ground, exchanging looks between Ophelia and Barbossa and Elizabeth. He was about to say something, but shouts from men about a hundred feet away distracted him. As one, the quartet looked around and noted that a few men in well-kept red coats were beginning to walk towards them—as soon as he saw them, the man whispered, "Quick, hide! Under the bridge!"

They did as they were commanded and stood, knee deep in the murky water underneath the bridge. As the men walked over them, they could hear the creak of the bridge sound due to their weight. It was only after another minute that they dared to withdraw from their concealment.

Even though Ophelia hadn't seen a symbol for confirmation, she knew what they were.

"East India Trading Company soldiers?!" spat Barbossa with contempt. He glared malevolently in the direction they'd disappeared to and shook his head, apparently at a loss for words.

"They've been getting worse," confirmed the man. "More raids trying to find our hideout. More spies. More trouble."

He eyed the trio suspiciously, as if daring to wonder whether they too were spies for the Trading Company. Apparently, he decided they were clean, and before Barbossa could respond to his comment, the man grunted and gestured in a clear way to show them to Sao Feng's lair.

As they walked onward, Elizabeth leaned close to Barbossa and asked, "Have you heard anything from Will?"

"I trust young Turner to acquire the charts and you to remember your place in the presence of Captain Sao Feng. That goes for you too, Bennett."

Ophelia just snorted and replied, "However bad this Sao Feng might be, I've faced worse. I'm not concerned."

"But yeh should be. Yeh see, Sao Feng is much like myself, but absent my merciful nature and sense of fair play."

Now she laughed and exclaimed, "Then we should feel right at home!"

Barbossa grumbled under his breath, pretending to be insulted, but Ophelia noted the little smirk he was attempting to restrain and knew that she had won this particular battle.

Before another few minutes had passed, the three of them were standing at what looked like a checkpoint into Sao Feng's hideout. The men waiting there quickly asked for them to hand over their weapons—knowing it would be dangerous not to, Ophelia reluctantly sacrificed her sword and her two knives.

"Satisfied?" questioned Ophelia, raising an eyebrow.

The men, however, were not. They all turned unmistakably to Elizabeth and said, "Remove, please."

Almost as a single unit, Barbossa and Ophelia turned their heads to accusingly look at Elizabeth.

Seeing that she was cornered, Elizabeth sighed and removed a rather large weapon—Ophelia didn't even know what to call it—and slapped it into one of the guard's hands. She then raised her own as a sign of surrender, as if to show and promise that she had no more lethal weapons within her custody.

At last appeased, the men allowed the trio to proceed into the next room. Ophelia looked around the place and saw that it was quite something… beads hung from the ceiling, and guards were aligned against the walls. The room was filled with a heavy steam. The whole place gave off a relaxing vibe, but Ophelia felt anything **_but_** relaxed in this situation.

One wrong move, one wrong word, could get them thrown out or into a fight.

That was when Ophelia laid eyes on the man with whom Barbossa was about to haggle—Sao Feng was standing tall and proud, dressed in robes of red silk. He was bald and had piercing dark eyes that watched their movements. It was certainly unnerving.

When they approached, the man exclaimed, "Captain Barbossa… welcome to Singapore. I understand that you have requests to make of me."

"More of a proposal to put to ye," contradicted Barbossa, stepping forward and establishing himself as the leader over Elizabeth and Ophelia, the latter of which was perfectly content with this. "I've a venture underway and I find myself in need of a ship and a crew."

"An odd coincidence!"

"Because you happen to have a ship and a crew you don't need?" suggested Elizabeth hopefully.

Ophelia tried not to roll her eyes. Barbossa had told them **_not_** to speak, if they could avoid it at all.

"No… because earlier this day, not far from here, a thief broke into my most revered uncle's temple and tried to make off with these… the navigational charts. The route to the Farthest Gate."

At these words, Sao Feng tossed a bound and yellow-looking scroll towards one of the guards that had escorted Ophelia and the others into the room. A sinking feeling filled her stomach as she watched the papers land safely in the guards hands… if those were the maps that Will had been tasked to steal, and Sao Feng knew about a thief—

"Wouldn't it be amazing if this adventure of yours took you to the world beyond this one?" he concluded, stepping slightly forward with narrowed eyes.

"It would strain credulity at that," agreed Barbossa.

But Ophelia was hardly listening. She attempted to maintain her composure for the sake of the mission, but she found herself scanning the room frantically with her eyes, looking for Will. She was certain he had to be nearby, if Sao Feng had caught him trying to make off with maps that were precious to him—

"This is the thief."

Sao Feng's words captivated Ophelia's attention. Her face snapped towards the side of the room, where a large vat of steaming water was covering her greatest friend's face. She swallowed, realizing that this was its own form of torture; he was not quite being waterboarded, but clearly it was hard for him to breathe.

"Is his face familiar to you?" asked Sao Feng, his voice deadly soft.

Ophelia looked at Barbossa, her eyes wide… but he was silent.

Sao Feng's eye twitched slightly, but it gave Ophelia the idea of what was to happen next as he exclaimed, "Then I guess he has no further need for it!" and raised a knife to Will's throat.

"No, stop!" shrieked Ophelia, holding out a hand as if she could grab Will and drag him away from this horrid man.

The knife froze in midair. During this time, Ophelia locked eyes with Will. She could see him smile ever so slightly at her in encouragement and gratitude, but still, she worried.

After a nearly unbearable silence, the leader of this Singapore gang shouted, "So! You come into my city… and betray my hospitality."

Barbossa seemed to understand that everything that could possibly have gone wrong had just gone wrong. And so, in a last-ditch attempt to salvage the situation, he exclaimed, "Sao Feng, I assure you that I had no idea that—"

"That he would get caught!" interrupted the other man. "You intend to attempt the voyage to Davy Jones' locker, but I cannot help but wonder… why?"

Ophelia sighed and lost interest as soon as Barbossa began to blabber on about the pirate court again. She'd heard enough of that drivel for the past two weeks while they all trekked to Singapore… At the moment, rescuing Will had a far greater priority.

When Elizabeth burst out in angry shouts, however, Ophelia was quite distracted.

"You can fight! You are Sao Feng, the pirate lord of Singapore. You command in an age of piracy where bold captains sail free waters. Where waves aren't measure in feet, but as increments of fear, and those who pass the test become legend. Would you have that era come to an end on your watch? The most notorious pirates from around the world are uniting against our enemy, and yet you **_sit_** here cowering in your bathwater!"

That was the most savage thing Ophelia had heard in her life. Even though she still didn't like Elizabeth, and in fact hated how badly she had hurt Will's heart, she couldn't help but respect her gumption in this particular moment.

Still, however, Ophelia worried about Will. His wrists were tied to a pole that forced him to hunch his back over—softly, she stepped back behind Barbossa and Elizabeth and snuck over to Will's side. The guards nearby noticed her and growled somewhat, raising their spears towards her, but she didn't care.

"Will," she whispered. "Are you alright?"

"I think I got water in my ears," he pouted, not looking at Ophelia. But he had that familiar half-smirk that he wore so often, and she knew that he was fine. For now, at least.

"Better than in your nose. Trust me, that stings."

"Believe me, I—"

But Will stopped speaking upon hearing the sharp sounds of metal drawn against metal. Ophelia tuned back in to the conversation only to see that Elizabeth and Barbossa had been thrown up the swords from below ground, undoubtedly by Pintel and Ragetti.

She sighed and muttered, "Can't things just go **_right_** for once?"

"What would be the fun in that?" jested Will, his jaw set, ready for a fight.

Ophelia was about to follow suit… but she noticed something odd. The man in front of her had tattoos drawn all over his body. Most of the guards in the room had tattoos, so he wouldn't have been out of place… had the tattoos been real. Because of all the steam and humidity in the room, the markings were smeared and were about to come away altogether.

She nudged Will's arm and pointed. Based on the way his expression morphed, she assumed that he thought the same thing as she.

With a dramatic sigh, Ophelia stormed forward, grabbed the man in question by the shoulder, and shouted, "Oh, enough of your pirate prattle! Why are we fighting each other when there is clearly a more pressing matter right **_here?!_** "

She shoved the man at Sao Feng's feet and declared, "This isn't our man. He's another spy!"

Sao Feng's eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to issue a command, but before he could utter a word, the doors behind Barbossa and Elizabeth swung open. East India Trading Company men began flowing into the room, shooting muskets and brandishing swords towards all the men in the room.

Will gasped, "Ophie, down!" and knocked her to the ground as a gun was aimed her direction. As soon as she hit the floor, the bullet was fired.

"You imbecile, that's the girl! We're not supposed to kill **_her_**!"

Ophelia's heart sunk. Was she the sole reason the East India Trading Company were here? Even though months had passed since she'd left Port Royal, months of pirating and fighting and surviving, she couldn't forget that she was still engaged to Lord Cutler Beckett… the leader of this company.

And it was clear his men had orders to return her to him.

As it was, Ophelia didn't have much chance to think. The chaos that had erupted in the room was absolute. She noticed that a few of the men from the Trading Company were making a beeline straight for her—Ophelia scrambled to her feet and shoved a few of Sao Feng's guards into their path, forcing them to fight so she might have time to escape.

"This way!" she heard Will's voice shout. She followed it blindly, without questions, knowing that if anyone would keep her safe, it would be Will. When she saw a fallen blade, she scooped it up and sliced through the ropes that tied Will's hands to the pole before seizing his now outstretched hand and running some more.

It took time, and a few close calls were made, but eventually they made it out of the madhouse. Ophelia looked around, breathing heavily. None of Beckett's men seemed to have discovered that she'd escaped. She allowed herself to be dragged by Will into a makeshift lean-to, away from any eyes that might be prying.

The lean-to, however, was occupied by Sao Feng. His eyes filled with fury, he shouted, "It's an odd coincidence, isn't it? The East India Trading Company finds me the day you show up in Singapore!"

"They're hunting me," gasped Ophelia. The realization just hit her like a cannonball in her stomach. "They're under orders to return me to Beckett, Will. I can't—I can't go back now!"

She began to sob and sank to her knees. Not even Will's calloused yet gentle grip could console her.

Wrapping an arm around Ophelia's shoulder, Will exclaimed to Sao Feng, "It doesn't matter. You can still make a deal with Beckett. If you want to, you need what I offer."

"You cross Barbossa. You are willing to cross Jack Sparrow. Why should I expect any better?" snipped Sao Feng.

"I need the _Black Pearl_ to free my father… and to take Ophelia to safety. You're helping me to get it."

Ophelia froze hearing this last bit. She hadn't expected to be part of Will's plans… he had been insistent upon finding his father, as far as she had been told. Why was he suddenly changing plans now, incorporating her in them? He knew that she would be miserable returning to Port Royal… but she had to, to ensure that Will himself would live.

As it was, Will noticed the shock on her face. Ferociously, he declared, "I'm **_not_** letting you marry that bastard, Ophelia. I don't care if you made that deal for my life, I will not allow it. I won't send you to a lifetime of misery for my sake."

Ophelia swallowed. That was exactly what she had been trying to spare him from, in the very beginning, before getting caught up in all this ridiculous nonsense about sailing to the end of the world to rescue the most roguish pirate the world had ever beheld.

Sao Feng gazed at them curiously and apparently decided that Will's words were genuine. With less force, he declared, "Very well. I will give you the charts if you promise me Jack Sparrow."

"Done," agreed Will immediately.

Ophelia blinked. Jack Sparrow had done some terrible things to herself and Will, that was true. But sentencing him to death by Sao Feng? She couldn't quite fathom how he was able to so quickly condone it.

She looked at the ground. She loved Will, it was true. But Jack was her friend. And if it came to turning a blind eye to her friend's death, Ophelia wasn't sure she would be able to do it.

* * *

Oh boy conflicting feelings. Those are fun to write. ;) Anyhow, I know that we're all impatiently waiting for Jack to re-enter the story... don't worry dearies. Stick with me for a couple more chapters and there'll be **_quite_** the welcome back waiting for us.

Thanks again for sticking with me throughout the duration of this story... all of you are wonderful! I'll try to update again soon, but you know me. Spring Break was a great opportunity for writing, but now I'm back in a rut with how often I'm able to free-write. That being said, I'll do all I can to move the story along as fast as possible!

For those of you who celebrate it, Happy Easter! Whether it's Easter or not for you, however, I hope you have a splendid day. Thanks again to you all.

Yours,

~Avalain Nightshade


	21. Chapter 20

Eventually, Will and Ophelia located the others and revealed that they had received the charts and a ship and crew from Sao Feng. It was clear that Barbossa was skeptical of their methods, but he seemed to accept them soon enough. Once he had the charts, the temporary Captain declared to set off almost immediately. He allowed only enough time to stock the ship with the necessary supplies before shoving away.

As worried as she was about the East India Trading Company's purpose in Singapore, Ophelia couldn't help but be calmed by the familiar feeling of being on a ship. It might not have been the _Pearl,_ and Jack wasn't there to make terrible jokes, but it would do for now.

Ophelia looked around the deck of the ship. Barbossa was at the helm, whistling merrily. Elizabeth stood near him, gazing blankly over the ocean. Tia Dalma was sitting upon some boxes, Pintel and Ragetti gazing at her uneasily. And Will was looking at a small dagger intently, just a few feet away from her.

"What is that?" she decided to ask. Anything to get her mind off of Beckett and the blasted gold ring on her finger.

Will looked up at her and smiled faintly. "A last gift from my father. I took it with a promise that I would set him free. This was when I… left the _Dutchman._ "

His last words were soft. Ophelia felt her heart flutter with uneasiness. She remembered how betrayed she had felt upon discovering he'd left her with the merciless band of cursed pirates. She realized she **_still_** felt a little bitter. But for the sake of everything else he had to do, and because he had had good intentions, she allowed it to slide.

"We'll see that promise through," she declared with a definitive nod.

Her friend grinned now; it was the most hopeful he'd looked in weeks.

But when he took in her expression, deep within her eyes, that smile slowly faded. He recognized the bags under her dark-brown gaze, the paleness to her face. He stood up from his seat and walked towards her, concerned.

"I won't let him have you," he repeated.

Ophelia sighed. She knew he would promise that, but in the end, Beckett would still hunt for her. And for Will, if she were to break her end of the bargain. Then he would be strung from the gallows, and she would be married anyway.

She opened her mouth to say as much, but Will cut her off before she could by asking, "Why did you agree to that, if it would haunt you so terribly?"

"Because the thought of your death being the price for my freedom haunted me more," she answered simply, gazing out over the ocean.

"Why?" he repeated.

She chuckled derisively and turned away, looking over the sea. Her mind went to Jack Sparrow then, suddenly remembering that the water had looked this exact aquamarine color the first time he had tried to teach her how to steer the _Pearl._

At last, she decided to answer, "Why wouldn't it, Will?"

He was quiet at her response. For a moment, the two of them simply looked out over the sea. Even as they sailed onward, the wind started to become colder, more harsh and foreboding.

It wasn't until five minutes had passed with the two of them standing this way that Will finally replied, "Well, the least I can do is ensure that you will not have to be afraid any longer."

Then he walked away. Ophelia didn't watch him go. Instead, she stared out over the ocean with a great sigh, not quite sure what to say or do. She felt someone glaring daggers in the back of her head and knew without looking that it was Elizabeth.

"A storm raging through the 'eart of the world. That is the only thing that can part you from 'im, no?"

Ophelia started and looked to her right to see Tia Dalma staring directly into her eyes with a ferocity and intenseness she'd not expected to find in the woman. She felt herself flush slightly at the accuracy of Tia Dalma's comment.

Still startled, Ophelia replied, "I… perhaps, yes."

Tia Dalma chuckled and clasped her hands together, gazing out over the railing. "As much as it begrudge me to say, your love be the fiercest and most true that I have ever seen," she mumbled.

Ophelia was almost even more surprised by this than by the woman's sudden appearance. She hadn't expected any sort of kindness or even respect from Tia Dalma, and yet here they were.

"Thank you," she murmured quietly. She didn't know what else to say.

"But I 'ave a question for you. Are you going to tell 'im?"

These words made Ophelia's blood turn cold. Tia Dalma hadn't been there at the time the _Pearl_ was taken down, but somehow, she knew that they both were thinking about the exact same thing—Elizabeth's kiss that betrayed Jack to his death. Even after six weeks, Ophelia still hadn't told Will that the Captain of the ship had been chained and sentenced to death by his fiancée. She didn't even know how she would bring up the topic.

This thought inspired her to answer, "I don't know how to tell him."

"It matters not how, but whether you **_do._** He will be 'urt either way. How will you 'urt 'im? Through the truth? Or through lies?"

And before Ophelia could respond, Tia Dalma bowed her head slightly and walked off, her gait graceful with each step.

* * *

The next few days, Ophelia was haunted by Tia Dalma's words. She knew that in the end, it would be much kinder to inform Will of what she knew. But she was too selfish to do so… she was ashamed of it, but the longer Will thought Elizabeth no longer loved him, the more out of love with her he might become.

One of those torturous days, she was standing on deck, staring blankly over the horizon. Pintel and Ragetti were telling her exciting pirate ventures, but she was only halfheartedly listening not only because of her thoughts, but because it was beyond freezing so far north. Despite these things, she smiled and laughed in the appropriate places, and so they were satisfied.

As she was sitting there, however, she felt a blanket being draped over her.

Ophelia blinked and looked upward to find Will standing there, smiling somewhat.

"You looked cold," he remarked simply before walking away.

She blinked again, unsure of what to make of this. Deciding to let it be, she turned back to the two pirates, both of whom were grinning evilly at this point.

"What?" she laughed.

"The two of you," chuckled Ragetti as Pintel made a poorly shaped heart gesture.

Realizing what they were getting at, Ophelia laughed uneasily and exclaimed, "Oh, no, we… it's nothing like that, guys. Really."

The two pirates sighed and rolled their eyes almost simultaneously at her words—Pintel opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, a harsh freezing breeze blew through the air, and everyone on deck shivered.

As Ophelia pulled the blanket Will had given her tighter around her shoulders, Pintel cursed and exclaimed, "No one said anything about cold."

"I'm sure there must be a good reason for our suffering," Ragetti chattered.

Pintel groaned and exclaimed, "Why doesn't that obeah woman just bring Jack back the same way she brought back Barbossa?"

"Because Barbossa was only **_dead!_** " exclaimed Tia Dalma from behind Ophelia. Her suddenness again unnerved Ophelia, who yelped and jumped from her spot on the box she was sitting on at the severity of her voice. "Jack Sparrow is taken, body and soul, to a place not of death, but punishment! The worst fate a person can bring upon 'imself stretching on forever! **_That's_** what awaits at Davy Jones's locker!"

Ophelia inhaled sharply at the last few sentences the woman spat. If Tia Dalma's words were correct, then that meant Jack was not dead… and it was entirely possible for her to search for him, to bring him back.

Just as she'd promised.

Startled by this information, Ophelia darted up from where she sat and launched herself underneath the decks to try and regain her breath. She stood there for a while, simply staring at the empty hammocks and wondering if all those legends that Barbossa had been chasing were true, if she could make good on her words that she'd exchanged with Jack—

But as abruptly as she burst underneath the decks, she stopped and frowned. Why was she losing her mind over the mere possibility that everything Barbossa said had been true? She shouldn't care.

And yet, without warning, she was brought back to that day. She recalled the gloomy feeling of dread in her stomach, the way that Jack smiled at her… so certain that it would be the last time he saw her face. She remembered Elizabeth's treachery, and the fact that only she herself would be able to tell Will the truth about her intentions—

"I know how you're feeling," said a voice.

Ophelia yelped and whirled around, frantically searching for the source of the voice. It took a while for her to locate it, but eventually she did. It was positioned atop a few boxes of provisions in the shadows, but it was clearly Will's voice.

Clearing her throat, Ophelia exclaimed, "Will!"

And Will it was. With a soft chuckle, he leapt off the boxes he'd previously been sitting on and replied, "Yes, here I am. Were you looking for me, Ophie?"

"Well… not exactly, no…" Ophelia trailed off here, knowing that it was time to stop being a coward, to heed Tia Dalma's words, and accept the fact that hurting Will now would be better than letting him discover her treachery later.

And so Ophelia blurted out, "Will, I know why Elizabeth kissed Jack."

Immediately, Will's face turned to stone. Where it was previously filled with a degree of compassion and kindness, now it was unbearably unreadable, as it had been whenever Ophelia had been gazing at him for the past six weeks.

"What makes you say that?" he asked coolly.

Ophelia swallowed, but gathered what little bravery she withheld to reply, "I… saw what she did with Jack that day, when we left him. When I went to check on him… shackles chained him to the mast. I asked if there was anything I could do to free him, but he insisted that I leave him be, that I find my way back to you so that I could live."

Ophelia no less than choked out these words, and dared not to look at her friend as she did. She stared instead at the mossy floorboards that so desperately needed to be cleaned—and recognized that there was no good way to avoid breaking his heart by saying these things.

This thought propelled her to say, through restrained tears and hushed whispers, "I'm so sorry I kept this from you. But I am cowardly, Will—I am. I was afraid of what this might mean for our alliance, our friendship…"

She trailed off at these words, but as soon as she did, Will strode towards her, that scarily unreadable expression on his face yet again. But as soon as he was standing in front of her, looking just barely down at her, he smiled and replied, "You are silly, Ophelia."

Taken aback, she exclaimed, "What?!"

"You are silly," he repeated smoothly, without a stutter or falter in his words. "You should never have been afraid of me, of what I might feel. If anything, I am grateful that you told me this… if only so that I know."

Ophelia raised an eyebrow and suspiciously commented, "You seem rather alright with what I've just told you, Will."

Will chuckled at her words and walked away, towards the wall. His back to her, Ophelia could see the state that his clothes were in—they were largely torn, and in fact quite ragged. She realized in that moment that the blanket he had given her was likely what had kept him warm throughout the past couple of weeks, and she immediately reached out to return it…

Only to have him place his hands atop hers and murmur, "No, keep it. I want you to have it."

"Not Elizabeth?" whispered Ophelia, her eyes wide. She felt her heart fluttering in her chest, her blood pounding in her head, wondering if at last, after so many years, she might finally place above Elizabeth for once, for once, for **_once._**

"Not for Elizabeth," confirmed Will, a gentle smile on his face. "For you."

"But… Elizabeth…"

"Shhh," protested Will, his familiar half-smirk on his face as he gently pressed a finger to Ophelia's lips. "Not everything is about her. I care about you, too, Ophelia. Perhaps… more than I should."

He stepped ever so closer to her body, so that when she took a deep breath, she could feel his form pressed against her own, so dreadfully, wonderfully close. Every piece of herself was still, almost numb, waiting for either of them to make the next move. Breathing grew harder, and she almost gasped upon saying, "But—"

Yet she couldn't get any further than that before his lips were on hers, careful yet warm, concerned but free, as if this act were something that had been forbidden for who-knew how long.

And Ophelia felt free. She closed her eyes and melted into Will's arms, allowing herself to relish in the feeling she had been daring to think about for nearly six years. As she moved closer, his grasp around her tightened, as if he were afraid to let her go. His lips were warm, his hands were warm, and she too felt warmer than she had in ages.

His hands grasped tightly at her waist, pulling her ever so slightly closer to him. She felt his fingers dig into her side, and her hands migrated to his hair, drinking in his presence, hoping that he wouldn't disappear the way she was terrified he would. As she kissed him, carefully, still afraid, his hand smoothed along her back as if to convince her that he was there, that he was real…

That he was hers.

Everything felt so right, Ophelia was almost sure she was dreaming. But when she pulled away, more so out of shock than anything else, she knew that she wasn't. This was real.

After this, the first thing she could gasp was, "Will."

"Ophelia, please. Tell me the truth. Why did you accept Beckett's engagement?"

She sniffled once and stared at the ground before answering, finally, as if a weight had been lifted off her chest, "Because I love you, William Turner. Both then and now, I would sooner sacrifice my hand in marriage than I would your life. I have loved you for years, and I still do, and I will continue to do so."

"Ophelia…" whispered Will, softly nudging her temple with his lips, kissing her gently on the side of her head. It felt like it really ** _meant_** something, and Ophelia's heart skipped a beat when he began kissing her again, this time harder, with more unrestrained feeling behind it.

And she responded to it, feeling tears prick behind her eyes, praying and hoping with all that she was that this would not be the last time she would experience such happiness. But even as she was pressed against him, a single nagging word occupied her mind, preventing the situation from being complete bliss.

 _Elizabeth._

Abruptly, Ophelia pulled away. Staring with hurt into Will's eyes, she quietly exclaimed, "No. No, wait, Will. What about your engagement? Your wedding?"

Will blinked and stared confusedly at her. "Isn't it obvious?"

Loath as she was to show it, the tears began spilling from Ophelia's dark eyes as she whispered, her breath hitched, "No, it's not. Not to me. I cannot—I cannot…"

"Cannot what, Ophie?" he murmured, his voice concerned as he brushed back a piece of her dark-chocolate hair behind her shoulder.

She swallowed, not wanting to break the illusion that she could be happy. That after all these years and all this peril, finally she had succeeded.

But Elizabeth was still here, and Beckett was hunting for her, and so far as they remained together, Ophelia and Will would be pursued one way or another. And so she finally replied, "I cannot have my heart broken. Not after all this. Please… don't do that to me."

And she escaped from his grasp, ignoring him as he called her name, and ran up to the decks where she knew she would be safe, at least for a little while.

* * *

I am procrastinating studying for finals by updating. :} I hope this chapter was to your liking; and thank you ever so much for making it thus far! You lot are all that and a bag of chips. The cat's pajamas. Bee's knees. And all those old phrasings that never truly die! With this in mind, I won't bother promising a quick update-HOWEVER! I **_will_** promise that a certain pirate returns to our story next chapter, and that things will quickly become... fun. For me. Because I already know what I'm going to write. But maybe not so much for you. ;)

I hope everyone's having a good, relatively not stressful finals week and/or summer vacation! As always, feel free to leave comments, thoughts, critiques, your favorite ice cream flavor, etc., in a review. I always love hearing from you!

Until the next time,

~Avalain Nightshade


	22. Chapter 21

"What're ya thinking about, lass?"

Ophelia jolted and looked towards Barbossa, who had his eyes fixed on the icebergs and the sea in front of him. She sighed and watched for a moment as he masterfully maneuvered the ship past this next barrage of pointy obstacles, but before long, they were in the clear again.

"Nothing important, Captain," she found herself answering.

Barbossa grunted, not entirely convinced but not necessarily inspired to probe more into the matter. And for that, Ophelia was grateful.

Three days had passed since Will had kissed her underneath the deck, and everything that had been said and done during that short exchange was tearing at Ophelia's mind horribly—even more so than Jack's death did.

She wanted to be happy. She wanted it so badly. But she didn't know what was happening with Elizabeth, or Beckett, or even Jack. Everything was so chaotic, Ophelia was having trouble putting things together.

"Yeh look like you've swallowed a pufferfish," chuckled Barbossa next. Even this managed to get a chuckle out of Ophelia.

"Perhaps," she replied softly. "I just want to rescue Jack and get the hell out of here."

Barbossa nodded and sighed. The monkey on his shoulder—as always—cocked its head Ophelia's direction and screeched. After his pet's interjection, the Captain remarked, "Yeh look more troubled than usual."

Ophelia sighed and gazed out over the helm. She could not see much due to the darkness of the night sky, but what she could see was due to the faint light of the stars and the moon. It was a very pensive atmosphere, and only made her feel that much more alone in the vast blackness.

Knowing that should she give too much information, Barbossa would put together the puzzle pieces, she remained silent. The last thing she wanted was to allow the ship into her personal affairs.

"It's nothing, Captain," she answered at last. She did not turn to look at him, but she knew that Barbossa wasn't buying it. Still, he seemed to respect her privacy.

There was a silence between them for a while. Ophelia gazed out over the ocean again… everything was calm and peaceful. She wished her mind rested as easy as the waters did.

But it did not.

For a while longer, she remained standing on the deck, losing sense of herself as she stared across the night sky. She allowed her eyes to drift off into space and let herself wonder for a moment.

Would it be worth the temporary happiness? Would being with Will, if he so wanted her, be worth it no matter the consequence? Or would she end up broken and jaded, the way she never wanted to be, as she married Cutler Beckett, or Will ended up marrying Elizabeth anyway?

Her thoughts were so perturbing, Ophelia felt them roaring in her ears. She closed her eyes and sighed to herself, hoping the annoying pressure would go away.

When she opened them again, however, she realized the noise wasn't in her head.

"Ophie!" exclaimed Will's voice, and Ophelia yelped and jumped backward away from the deck, suddenly brought out of her reverie. She whirled and stared into his panicked eyes and heard him shout, "Grab a rail, grab something!"

Sharply returned to reality, Ophelia realized that the ship was heading directly towards a waterfall. She stared at Barbossa with wide eyes—only a moment ago, he was so masterfully navigating the ship! How had things gone so wrong so quickly?

Will and Elizabeth were screaming directions to the rest of the crew, attempting to get the ship to turn around, away from the waterfall. But Ophelia knew the truth; they were already much too far towards it to turn around now. Knowing there was no better option, she clutched the railing of the ship so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

As the ship turned over the edge, all she could hear was screaming.

 _CRASH_

Bubbles and weightlessness. Ophelia felt herself being tossed underneath the ferocious waves and currents that the falling ship had caused in the ocean. She was glad she had taken such a good breath before they fell. She allowed the water to push and pull her as it desired, all the while praying that she wouldn't be swept too far away.

When she broke the surface, she found that her wishes were answered. Not too far off, she spotted a head of stringy hair—Barbossa. Ophelia swam towards him, only slightly comforted by his presence.

Despite all the strife he had caused her the past three days, Ophelia found herself frantically searching the water for Will. After a moment, when Pintel and Ragetti and Tia Dalma and Elizabeth and Cotton had shown up but Will was still missing, she found herself swimming away from the crew, screaming his name.

"Will!" she shrieked, diving underwater and searching. The salt stung her eyes, but she refused to give up looking. She **_had_** to find him. She **_would._**

"Will!"

Still nothing.

With a gasp of defeat, Ophelia began to swim further out—but a hand seized her and firmly held her backward.

"No, lassie, yeh don' wan' to go out there!" shouted the Captain's voice. He spluttered a bit as some seawater entered his mouth, but his next words were still comprehensible. "He'll show up, I promise yeh. Just wait and see. There's land nearby we must swim towards."

Ophelia couldn't say anything, but her mind was reeling with frenzied thoughts. What if Barbossa was wrong?

But the Captain wasn't giving her much of a choice. With help from Pintel, he firmly grasped her arms and pulled her towards the island. Knowing she couldn't fight them, Ophelia resignedly let herself be dragged towards a sandy beach, although she still gazed over the ocean. As the others started walking up the shore, Ophelia knelt, her hands balled tightly into fists.

After what felt like an eternity, Ophelia felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Tia Dalma gazing down at her warmly. Her eyes were calm, and Ophelia felt herself becoming lost in them, even as the woman looked out over the sea.

"There," she said after a moment of silence.

Blinking rapidly, Ophelia gazed out over the sea. Suddenly, she saw a form being almost carried by the waves up to the shore. It was undoubtedly Will.

With a sharp gasp, she launched up from her spot on the ground and ran towards the wave. When she reached him, she frantically searched him over, hoping that seawater wasn't in his lungs, that he would be alright—

"Will?" she whispered.

At the sound of her voice, Will coughed and spat out a mouthful of salt water. He took a moment to collect himself and rub the water out of his eyes and mouth. Once that was done, he gazed at Ophelia questioningly.

She didn't say anything in response. She knew that all she wanted to say was there in her expression. And so she stood up and calmly held out a hand.

He took it. Grasping it tightly, she helped haul him up from the ground. When he was up, however, he didn't let it go.

"Come on," she murmured. As much as it pained her to do so, she released her hand from Will's grip. "We have to find Jack. He's close by."

Will nodded, but was silent. Together, they walked towards the rest of the crew, who were wearily trudging up the white sand.

For a minute or two they walked, the sounds of the waves fading as they turned further away from the sea. Everyone was quiet, anxiously peering over the sand for a sign of their Captain.

Five more minutes passed with this uneasy silence; the one to break it was Gibbs, who spat with disdain, "This truly is a godforsaken place."

"Agreed," sighed Ophelia. She shuddered to think of Jack on such a desolate island, alone. What would the isolation have done to him? Would he be alright? She was quite concerned as she added, "And I cannot see Jack anywhere…"

Barbossa laughed loudly as he reassured the crew. "He's here! Davy Jones never once gave up that what he took."

Will snorted. "And does it matter? We're trapped here by your doing. No different than Jack."

Before anyone could agree or pose an argument, Tia Dalma extended an arm and gracefully pointed out in the distance. Almost so softly that no one else could hear it, she mused, "Witty Jack is closer than you think!"

Ophelia immediately gazed to where the other woman was pointing, desperate for a sign of her friend. She saw nothing, and was disheartened… but as the seconds droned on, she realized that the ground was rumbling.

Strongly.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from over the horizon. It was the silhouette of the _Black Pearl…_ and standing at the helm of it was none other than Jack Sparrow, looking as if he were steering the ship over the waters he so loved.

The only odd thing about the situation was that the ship was moving over land, being carried by **_crabs,_** of all things.

Nonetheless, in such an odd place, Ophelia didn't question it. The fact was that Jack was **_here,_** looking alive and well and like Jack despite all the time that had passed.

"Slap me thrice and hand me to my mama," whispered Gibbs hoarsely. "It's Jack!"

Ophelia laughed. It was all she could do, watching this unique picture. Slowly but surely, the little crabs carried the _Pearl_ and its Captain towards them and the water. Having reached the shore, the crabs dropped the ship in a place where a crew could feasibly cast off and scuttled towards the ocean.

Everyone simply stared as Jack sauntered towards them, in his typical "Jack" fashion. The Captain's eyes first travelled to Gibbs.

"Mr. Gibbs!" he exclaimed. "I expect you're able to account for your actions, then. There's been a perpetual and virulent lack of discipline upon my vessel. Why? Why is that, sir?!"

Gibbs looked highly taken aback. Gazing at his compatriots, he exclaimed, "Sir, you're in Davy Jones's locker, Captain!"

"I know that! I know where I am, and don't think that I don't!"

The more that Jack was speaking, the more upset Ophelia became. His posture and his mannerisms screamed Jack Sparrow, but this was certainly unlike him. She worried again that he may have fallen to madness or—

She was abruptly cut off from her thoughts when Jack's eyes landed on her. Without so much as a word of hello, the Captain swept towards her, snaked an arm around her waist, and kissed her fiercely.

"Oi!" exclaimed Will, but Jack ignored him.

This gesture alone brought Ophelia back to the moment in his office, so long ago, when first he promised to help her follow Will onto the _Dutchman._ She had felt like she could find her chance at happiness—and she would be lying to herself now if she tried to think that that feeling hadn't returned.

More than shocked by this address, Ophelia pulled away from Jack and, with raised eyebrows, exclaimed, "Jack Sparrow! Just what do you think you're doing?"

Jack grinned and wiggled an eyebrow. "Well, if I'm going to be so rudely tortured by such an attractive image, I figure I might as well play into it."

Ophelia huffed and crossed her arms, giving Jack a once-over. He looked exactly the same as he had when she'd been speaking to him last on the _Pearl,_ minus the shackles upon his wrist. As she stared at him, she realized how much of a weight was lifted off of her shoulders.

She had missed him. More than she realized; more than she thought she would.

"He thinks we're a hallucination," Gibbs pieced together.

Ophelia blinked and looked towards the man, carefully avoiding Will's eyes.

"Indeed!" remarked Jack, releasing Ophelia and gently walking past her, towards Will. "For example. William, tell me something. Have you come because you need my help to save a certain distressing damsel? Or rather, damsel in distress? Either one."

Will narrowed his eyes in clear disapproval. He was standing stiffly, as if he didn't want to be so close to Jack. He appeared angry…

Ophelia swallowed nervously and almost didn't hear Will reply, "No."

"Well, then, you wouldn't be here, would you? So then you can't be here! QED, you're not really here." Jack said this with a self-satisfied smile, as if he had pieced together the most sound logic of the universe.

That was when Elizabeth piped up. "Jack? This is real, we're here!"

Jack's eyes landed on her and immediately widened. "Aaaghhh," he groaned incomprehensibly, shuffling as far away from Elizabeth as possible—which was to say, he all but hid behind Ophelia. It was clear he was quite uncomfortable confronting the very woman who had condemned him to the Locker in the first place.

Ophelia couldn't blame him. She considered it a miracle that Jack hadn't gone mad; but that certainly didn't excuse Elizabeth's actions.

Realizing that everyone was staring at him, Jack mumbled into Ophelia's ear, "The Locker, you say?"

She nodded and glanced backward at him, saying, "Yes, Jack. We sailed here to find you. To rescue you."

He sniffed slightly and swaggered back out from behind her before proclaiming, "Have you, now? That's very kind of you. But it would seem that as **_I_** possess a ship and **_you_** don't, you're the ones in need of rescuing. Isn't that right, lassie?"

"I believe you owe us for finding you in the first place," retorted Ophelia, taking a step back and crossing her arms. She knew that Jack would sail—he loved the sea too much to refuse. Thus, it was only a matter of convincing him that the rest of them were worth it.

Before anyone could say anything else, Ophelia felt a firm hand on her arm, pushing her aside. She recognized Will's voice exclaiming, "Jack! Cutler Beckett has the heart of Davy Jones. He controls the _Flying Dutchman._ "

"What?" gasped Ophelia, all the air escaping her lungs.

Will ignored her.

"How did you find that out?" she demanded, her vision tainted red by fear and shock. She hadn't known anything about her father's heart—she thought that it had been lost for good, not stolen!

"Not important right now," he responded curtly.

Ophelia scoffed and stamped her foot in the sand. " ** _Not important?_** Will, this is my father we're talking about! And the man I'm **_engaged_** to! Tell me what is going on this instant!"

But he ignored her again.

"UGH!" she screeched, whirling away from Will. She knew that this was because of Jack's kiss. It had angered him; more than he showed. She knew why, of course—because that was what Elizabeth had done. Elizabeth had held Will's heart, and she broke it by kissing Jack Sparrow. For Will to see it happen again, with Ophelia herself, was probably a stab in the gut.

But to dangle a vital piece of information about her father—her only family—becoming a slave to the man she had promised to marry?

That was beyond cruel.

And Ophelia was furious with Will for telling her like this.

Tears stung her eyes. Jack had kissed **_her._** It wasn't fair for Will to be angry about the gesture when she hadn't initiated it.

The little voice in the back of her head, however, reminded her that she had liked it. She had pretended to be affronted, but the kiss had made her feel free… just like it had the first time.

Had Will noticed that?

Ophelia hardly heard the others attempting to convince Jack to leave the Locker—she heard the Captain exclaiming, "Leave you people alone for just a minute, look what happens. Everything's gone to pot!"

She didn't know what to do, what to think, how to feel. She felt deceived. She told Will her secret—that she loved him.

And he repaid her like this.

"Why should I sail with any of you?! Four of you have tried to kill me in the past. One of you succeeded," spat Jack suddenly.

These words forced Ophelia back out of her spiral. She glared back at Jack and Will, angry with the both of them, angry about the unrequited kiss and the reluctance to help, angry about the suddenness of impactful information. Jack was the first to notice her teary glare. His normal sardonic expression grew slightly concerned. Will soon after saw where he was looking and glanced at Ophelia. His face was more apologetic, as if he hadn't meant for the repercussions of his words.

With venom in her voice, Ophelia exclaimed, "Jack Sparrow, you're letting us board the _Pearl_ and get out of this Locker or I'm going to be the **_fifth_** person to try and kill you. I'm going to return to the world, I'm going to find my father, and I'm going to give Beckett a piece of my mind. Now everyone your ass on the boat."

Not waiting for anyone to help her up, Ophelia launched to her feet and stormed towards the _Pearl._ She heard everyone grumbling assent at her fortitude, and soon enough the remainder of the crew was following her.

Now that Jack had been saved, a new job had just replaced her old one.

She was going to save Davy Jones.

* * *

Well, it sure is a good thing I didn't promise a quick update! Lol. I'm sorry my wonderful readers, I am a bad updater. I hope this chapter was to your liking, however. ;) I wanted to make sure I got it juuust right.

With that in mind, thank you so much for staying with the story. You are honestly fabulous! If you have any comments, questions, concerns, etc., please feel free to let me have 'em! I hope everyone's summer has gone well so far. My best to each and every one of you! 3

Yours,

~Avalain Nightshade


	23. Chapter 22

Within the next half an hour, the _Black Pearl_ was back on ocean waters. Barbossa and Jack had quickly begun the squabble over who would be the Captain of the ship, but Ophelia couldn't possibly care less about their childish disputes. Her determination to save her father was ringing throughout her head, making her all but single-minded.

She spent the rest of the day working hard at the mast, making sure that all was going well with the _Black Pearl._ It was odd, how easily she readjusted to the ship—even though it had been well over three or even four months since last she'd actually helped to sail this particular ship, it felt almost like second nature.

Ophelia was so enveloped in her work, she even forgot how angry she was with Will until he stepped next to her and murmured, "We need to talk."

Her anger returned to her, Ophelia snapped, "Yes, we do."

With these three words, she turned on her heels and viciously swung open the door to below deck, where luckily the cargo hold was empty. Will followed her soon afterwards, closing the door behind him.

As soon as it shut, Ophelia exclaimed, "What the hell, Will."

Will sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry," he lamented, scrutinizing the floor. "It just…"

He didn't finish his sentence.

"Just what?" prompted Ophelia. She was annoyed by the fact that he couldn't even look at her. "It slipped out? Because you were angry with me and blurting those words was your revenge?"

"No!" exclaimed Will, his eyes finally jolting up to meet her face.

"Then you just happened to conveniently remember that my father is a slave at that exact moment? Why did you keep that from me?"

Will exhaled and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. His brown eyes were dark with anxiety as he answered, "I didn't know how to tell you. I knew it would upset you."

Ophelia shook her head and faced the wall so he wouldn't see the expression on her face. She didn't know **_what_** he had been thinking, deciding it was better to keep her in the dark. Barely restraining a groan, she replied, "I didn't know how to tell you about Elizabeth's actions, either. I knew that would upset you. But I still told you."

"I know you did," he murmured.

Ophelia didn't know what to say to that. So she said nothing. Instead, she sat on one of the crates in the corner of the room and blankly stared at the floor.

She still felt incredibly alone. After all, this was her best friend keeping such things from her. If she couldn't rely on him, who could she possibly rely on?

"Do you think if we were to save your father, he would spare mine?"

This question was so unexpected that Ophelia swerved to look at him, popping her neck in the process. She stared at Will, at his expression—but where she had expected to see hesitancy or reluctance to follow up with this suggestion, she found only sincerity and concern.

For a moment, she didn't have anything to say. She was startled… she had thought that no one else could be persuaded to save the deadly legend of the seas. And yet, here was Will, initiating the offer.

At last, she swallowed and whispered, "I think he would. Is this… are you…"

Will seemed to understand what she was attempting to ask. Slowly, he nodded and stepped towards her. "Aye, Ophie," he said. "I'll help you. But you must answer me something first."

"Of course. Anything," she replied, overcome with gratefulness.

There was a silence, and then—"Why did Jack kiss you?"

His voice was soft, as if he were afraid to ask, to hear the answer and what it potentially could be. Hearing how afraid he sounded, Ophelia sighed.

"I don't know," she replied. "We have made jokes and become friends, but… I honestly cannot say why, Will. I am almost certain that Jack is afraid of predictability—and because of that, I can tell you that I do not trust him with my ring finger, must less my heart or my life."

Whilst this much was very true, Ophelia still couldn't help but recall how very free and alive she'd felt in Jack's arms—but she banished the recollection.

She couldn't afford to be fickle now. Not now when Will had so generously volunteered his help, even **_if_** his goal to save his father coincided with her own.

Will took a step closer to Ophelia and gazed over her face, as if attempting to figure out whether she meant what she said or not. His eyebrows furrowed as he questioned, "But what does that have to do with his attentions?"

"I'm sorry, Will," she murmured, looking away. "I cannot answer that."

She heard him sigh helplessly. Saddened by the sound, she closed her eyes—she wished she had a better answer. Surely Jack didn't actually hold any sort of affection towards her; she was currently the only female on the ship that hadn't tried to kill him, was all. She was realistically the only option at the moment.

Ophelia was interrupted from her thoughts by a kiss on her temple. She opened her eyes as Will rested his forehead against her own, and heard him murmur, "Ophelia. No matter what happens, I wish you to know that I care for you deeply, and that my affections for you deepen with each passing day."

Struck by the suddenness of this comment, Ophelia opened her mouth to ask what inspired him to say as much—but before she could ask the question, Will whisked around and exited the room.

* * *

Try as she might, Ophelia could not find Will for the rest of the day. She longed to ask what he had meant, and if he truly, truly meant it. But wherever he had gone was somewhere she did not know of, leaving her in the dark with all her questions. Left with no other real option of what to do, Ophelia returned to helping with sailing.

Before much longer, the day transformed into the night. As the waters calmed, everyone took a break from sailing in order to glance up at the blanket of darkness above. Stars glimmered overhead, forming constellations that Ophelia had never before seen. A mist settled over the surface of the ocean, filling her with an ominous gloom.

This feeling was soon explained as lifeboats began sailing past the _Pearl,_ all heading the opposite direction. All the passengers of these lifeboats were barely more than silhouettes.

Ophelia looked to her right to see Jack standing there. Her anger with him had slightly subsided over the course of the day, and now her curiosity was great. She therefore figured to ask, "Do you know what this is, Jack?"

The Captain glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before replying, "I don't, lassie. But these look like ghosts to me."

"I figured as much," she sighed. A perturbing thought entered her head then—could it be possible that her own mother was among them?

Suddenly desperate to know the answer, Ophelia leaned out along the railing, searching across the faces of the specters as they sailed past. She longed to know whether or not her mother might be present amongst them—but there were so many. She couldn't possibly inspect them all…

As she was searching, she heard an elated voice proclaim, "It's my father, we've made it back! Father! Father, here, look here!"

Despite Ophelia's normal apathy towards Elizabeth, she suddenly felt herself being very sympathetic towards the other woman. Elizabeth didn't even know the truth and the severity of the matter yet, and that in itself deserved pity.

"Elizabeth," said Jack's voice, soft but sad. "We're not back."

As it was, the ghost of Elizabeth's father heard her cry. His boat was very close to the _Pearl,_ and his form was as translucent as all the others. His ethereal voice exclaimed, "Elizabeth. Are you dead?"

"No… no!" shouted Elizabeth.

Knowing that the realization was starting to hit her, Ophelia walked towards Elizabeth and put a hand on her shoulder. Surprisingly, it wasn't shrugged off. On the contrary, it was grabbed and squeezed tightly.

"I think I am," replied Mr. Swann. His face was melancholy, yet there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he added, "There was this chest, you see. It's odd. At the time, it seemed so important."

Ophelia's breath got caught in her throat. If her hunch was correct, then Mr. Swann had gotten a good look at the chest containing her father's heart. He could possibly have more information about Beckett and how he enslaved Davy Jones… and maybe even how to free him.

She was about to shout out for his help, but something stopped her. It was the devastated expression on Elizabeth's face—this would most likely be the final interaction she'd ever have with her father. Out of sympathy and pity, Ophelia stepped away. She wouldn't derive the woman this last conversation.

As it was, her patience was rewarded. Mr. Swann continued saying, "And there was also… a heart. I learned that if you stab the heart, yours must take its place… and you will sail the seas for eternity. The _Dutchman_ must have a Captain. Silly thing to die for."

"Come aboard!" screeched Elizabeth. "Someone cast a line!"

But Elizabeth's words fell on deaf ears, Ophelia's included. Mr. Swann's words rang through her head…

 _The_ Dutchman _must have a Captain._

Before Ophelia's eyes, Elizabeth started climbing the railing—

"She must not leave the ship!" shouted Tia Dalma.

Ophelia lunged forward and seized the woman around the waist, pulling her back onto the _Black Pearl._ Elizabeth began fighting against the gesture, even elbowing Ophelia in the stomach during her struggle. But she didn't let go, knowing that something very ill could befall Will's fiancée if she jumped into the water.

"Is there a way?" questioned a soft voice—Will's. Ophelia stared at him, her questions from the conversation they'd had earlier that day already re-entering her mind. He was standing right behind Ophelia, observing her saving his betrothed… and yet, not doing anything to help.

Tia Dalma shook her head and said softly, "Him at peace."

With these words, the fight immediately seeped out of Elizabeth. Her tension dissipated, and she all but sunk to the floor of the ship in her sadness. Despite this, Ophelia kept a careful watch on the woman, and a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," murmured Ophelia. "But as difficult as it is, you must say something to him. You will regret it if you do not… trust me."

Elizabeth's brown eyes were filled with tears as she looked up at Ophelia and nodded. Though her hands were shaking, she pushed herself up to look at her father again and shouted, "I love you, father. I won't forget you! Not now… not ever."

Mr. Swann smiled, a hauntingly joyful expression upon his face. "I'm so proud of you, Elizabeth," he called back.

And then he was gone.

"Father… father!" shouted Elizabeth, but it was clear now that he would not be seen again. Coming to terms with this, she began to cry into Ophelia's arm, as she was still the closest person to her.

Ophelia didn't know what else to do except wait for her tears to dry. She kept a hand on her shoulder, squeezing encouragingly but—was it just her, or was it odd that Will was not being the support that Elizabeth currently needed?

With this thought in mind, she locked eyes with her best friend and shot him a questioning glance. But his eyes were all but emotionless in their response.

More confused than before, Ophelia then turned to Jack, who was staring at the both of them with mild concern.

Having caught the attention of the Captain, Ophelia remarked, "Jack, I think we're going to need some rum."

Jack nodded and looked at Gibbs, exclaiming, "You heard the woman."

Gibbs grunted and grumbled under his breath, but he walked towards the cargo hold to grab the alcohol.

Once he returned, Elizabeth immediately seized the flask and started to sip it, the tears on her face still drying. Ophelia squeezed her shoulder one last time before rising and nodding her thanks to Jack and Gibbs. She then happened to gaze out over the ocean—and promptly froze.

Out over the water was a gorgeous island. It was translucent, like all the ships and ghosts that continued to sail past the _Pearl,_ but even from fifty feet away, it was clearly an oasis. There were trees and white beaches and even waterfalls in the vast distance… it looked immaculate, in every sense. And on one of those beaches stood a woman.

Her heart clenched and she gasped, "Jack… is there any way we could sail closer to that island? I just—I just want to get a look."

The Captain opened his mouth to respond, perhaps to deny her request, but upon noting the expression on Ophelia's face, he decided to reply, "Very well, lassie. I'll see what I can do."

He sojourned up to the wheel and elbowed Barbossa out of the way before directing the _Pearl_ ever so slightly closer to the island.

It was enough. Ophelia was able to get a glance at the woman on the island and, true to her gut feeling, she recognized her mother. It appeared that the ghostly paradise **_belonged_** to her, and her alone… it was clear someone had gone to great lengths to treat her so well.

"Mother," whispered Ophelia. She knew that smile. Even from so far away, she simply **_knew._** But she also knew that it would be impossible to bring her back… and so she simply stared. What was she supposed to say?

It appeared that her mother, however, had a message. With that gentle smile still on her face, she exclaimed, "Goodbye, darling. Keep my love in your heart—and relay some to your father when next you see him."

Her voice shot Ophelia back to memories of her early childhood—this voice sung her lullabies at night, soothed her when she was anxious or angry. That smile comforted her and made her feel happy, and those eyes were given to Ophelia at birth.

Her throat tight, Ophelia called back, "I will. Mother—thank you."

It was all she could say before the _Pearl_ was too far out of range for her to add anything else. She watched as her mother waved her farewell; Ophelia returned the gesture, feeling numb. She had not truly expected to find her mother in the everlasting sea of ghosts… but there she was. And it looked like Jones was taking good care of her.

That was a small comfort.

After a minute or so, Ophelia blinked and realized that tears were also streaming down her **_own_** face. She hadn't known she was crying until that moment—nor had she felt the hands grasping her arm and shoulder.

One of them belonged to Elizabeth, who shared an expression of mutual understanding. The other woman held out the flask of rum, and Ophelia took it gratefully before taking a big swig of it. As always, the liquid burned her throat and she found herself not necessarily enjoying the drink, but for now, it was needed.

The other hand belonged to Will, who seemed to be exceptionally concerned. His eyes were narrowed as he sought her gaze, to see the depth of her sadness and potentially deduce what she needed.

Knowing that the question was coming, Ophelia preemptively answered, "I'm alright. It was a surprise, was all. I had hoped, but… I hadn't expected…"

She couldn't finish her sentence, but no one asked her to. To fill the silence, she took another big drink of rum—and promptly realized that she and Elizabeth had finished the flask.

Ophelia opened her mouth to apologize for not leaving the last of it to Elizabeth, who certainly needed it more, but before she could, Jack snatched the flask from her hand. With a complacent grin, he exclaimed, "I've got more in me quarters. Come with me, love, and we'll fetch you both some more drink."

Knowing that it was needed, Ophelia followed without question. Almost blindly, she allowed Jack to lead her across the deck and into the Captain's Quarters, paying no mind as he gently closed the door behind her.

As soon as it was shut, he asked, "Why so down, sweet cheeks? You got to see your mother again. Isn't that… good?"

Ophelia blinked and looked at Jack's expression. He was clearly confused, yet also attempting to be supportive. She merely watched as he reached out a hand and tucked another stray piece of her dark hair behind her shoulder.

"Yes, I—it is… I think," she replied emptily. She truly didn't know how to feel at the moment.

"Doesn't sound like it," he remarked plainly.

Ophelia sighed, knowing that he was right. It would take her a little while to recuperate from the shock… she felt like she had just lost her mother all over again. She was thrown back into the feelings of confusion and isolation that she'd felt when she was little.

"I know. I simply feel so alone," she murmured, turning away from the Captain. And she did. It felt like a void had opened up in her world and was beginning to swallow her whole.

Jack's voice managed to pull her out of the spiral, if only just a little.

"You aren't alone, love. At least… you don't have to be."

She knew that in order to have this feeling of separation banished from her, she'd need to be intensely focused on an immediate task. And so she began to say, "Thank you, Jack. I appreciate that. For now, I think I just need something to distract me. Sailing will—"

But before she could finish her sentence, Jack pushed her up against the wall. Ophelia inhaled sharply, unsure of what exactly was happening. Was he attacking her? When he leaned in to kiss her, however, it became incredibly clear.

"No—no," she exclaimed, ducking underneath his arms and escaping from his grasp. Jack turned around with a confused expression on his face as she hiccupped, "Jack, not **_that_** type of distraction, I don't want that. I just lost my mother again! That is… this is **_not_** what I need!"

Jack stepped away from Ophelia and smirked a little, as if he didn't believe her. With his normal joking manner, he stated, "I do offer a variety of services. That being said, love… what do you need?"

"The rum. For Elizabeth. What I **_came_** here for, Jack," exhaled the woman, suddenly wanting to be out of the Captain's Quarters as soon as humanly possible.

Jack nodded and handed her a flask. He opened his mouth to say something else, but as soon as the rum was in her possession, Ophelia whispered, "Thank you," and bolted out the door, uncaring of the fact that it slammed behind her.

The sound gathered some attention from the others, but Ophelia ignored their questioning glances as she handed Elizabeth the full flask.

"Do you want any?" offered Elizabeth, noting the distress of the other woman. "You got it, you can drink first."

"No," gasped Ophelia, turning away from the remainder of the crew. "No, thank you, I just need sleep."

She turned to flee underneath the deck, but just before she reached the door, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Restraining a yelp, she inhaled sharply and whirled around… and was relieved to see that it was not Jack, but Will.

He knew immediately that something was wrong. Softly, he asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing," blurted out Ophelia. She knew she couldn't tell Will. He would be worried or angry or jealous, and she couldn't handle how he might react at the moment. She needed to deal with her rampaging thoughts and feelings on her own. "It's nothing. I just need to go to bed."

She more or less yanked her arm from Will's grasp, trying not to look at her friend's face for fear that he would be injured by her words. As Ophelia turned back around, however, she froze.

Still within her sight was the Captain's Quarters, and standing in the doorway was Jack. But he was no longer smirking or acting suavely—he was simply watching her in a manner that Ophelia never thought she'd see from him. His eyes carried a clear message; one that said _I'm sorry._

Knowing that she couldn't face him again tonight, Ophelia blinked and continued to descend underneath the deck, hoping against hope that at least for a little while, she would find sleep.

* * *

Hello again, friends! Thank you for reading this latest installment of _The Daughter of the Sea!_ You are all amazing for sticking through these 22+ chapters (if you've been here that long; if not, yay you for catching up thank you as well for being here)! As always, if anyone has any questions or comments or concerns, voice them! I love reading your feedback, always. Always always always. I am very hyped up on coffee and it is 10:30 at night please send help.

I wish you all the best; until next time!

~Avalain Nightshade


	24. Chapter 23

Ophelia awoke to being thrown out of her hammock. She landed painfully on the ground, startled beyond comprehension. After her initial state of shock, she started to feel annoyed. What was Barbossa playing at?

That feeling disappeared when the ship started rocking the other way, all but forcing her to roll to the other side of the room. With a yelp, she grabbed the ropes of the hammock she'd been sleeping in and held onto them as tight as she could. This time, the _Pearl_ rocked even further to the other direction, which was incredibly alarming.

Fearing the worst, as soon as the ship leveled out, Ophelia leapt to her feet and darted towards the door. Even as she reached the staircase, the ship lurched again, back and forth, so harshly that she couldn't even get a hand on the door.

Being tossed and turned so forcibly frightened Ophelia awfully—but for the next two minutes that it happened, there was nothing she could do. She could only wonder what was happening and pray that in the end, she and the others would come out of the situation alive.

At last, after what felt like an eternity, the rocking stopped. Feeling sore and bruised, Ophelia got up from where she lay on the ground and shakily opened the door to above deck.

The scene waiting for her was rather chaotic. What she saw was the crew sopping wet on the deck, except for Pintel and Ragetti, who were tied upside down on the mast. There was seaweed on the floor of the ship, and everyone looked fairly rattled from whatever had just happened.

Seeing that no one was moving to help the two pirates that were hanging upside down, Ophelia moved forward to go untie them. As she arrived, they both grinned at her—which was rather creepy as they were upside down—and exclaimed, "'Ello, poppet!"

Restraining laughter, Ophelia reached out to untie the ropes. But what she heard in the background made her freeze.

It was undoubtedly the sound of many guns being cocked.

Suddenly impatient with the delicate task in her hands, Ophelia withdrew her knife and sliced through the ropes. Pintel and Ragetti crashed to the deck, grumbling under their breath, but she paid them no mind. Instead, she whirled around towards those who held the guns, and was not surprised to see Barbossa pointing a gun at Jack and Will, whilst Jack was pointing two at Barbossa and Elizabeth, and Elizabeth pointed hers at Barbossa and Jack, and Will also doing the **_same._** To top it off, Gibbs held one to Barbossa's head.

"Oh, sod," sighed Ophelia, storming forward and placing herself in between Jack and Will. Angrily, she added, "I leave you clods for five minutes and you go off to kill each other! What's going on?"

"You've been asleep longer than you thought, dearie," exclaimed Jack. "It's only been about a day and a half."

Ophelia blinked. Had it truly been so long? She looked out over the horizon and saw that it was sunrise… she had gone to sleep when it was full dark out. Realizing this, she narrowed her eyes at Jack, displeased with the fact that he'd tried to deceive her.

Jack noticed this glance and exhaled impatiently. "It's a long story."

No longer interested in this portion of the conversation, Ophelia changed the topic by saying, "All of you, put those ridiculous things down. I've only just woken up and it's already been a long day—don't start murdering each other to top it off."

"Then tell your **_Captain_** that he and I are going to the Brethren Court, and that there's no a-arguin' the point," spat Barbossa, apparently quite frustrated.

Jack pointed his two weapons at Barbossa and returned evenly, "I **_is_** arguin' the point. If there's pirates a-gatherin', I'm turning my ship the other direction."

Elizabeth was now the one to position her weapons both at Jack as she exclaimed, "The pirates are gathering to fight Beckett—and you're a pirate."

"Fight or not, you're not running, Jack," exclaimed Will, although he lowered the pistol that was pointed at Jack seeing as Ophelia was standing in the middle of them. Jack, noticing the gesture, did the same, but he sneered at Will anyway.

Barbossa grunted in affirmation. "If we don't stand together, they'll hunt us down one-by-one till there's none left, but you."

"I quite like the sound of that. Captain Jack Sparrow; the last pirate," he mused, a complacent grin upon his face. He truly didn't seem to understand, much less even care, about the situation at hand.

"Jack," exclaimed Ophelia exasperatedly. She knew that if he truly were the last pirate alive, there was only so much time he'd spend before the East India Trading Company would enslave or murder him. She soon spoke these thoughts aloud. "If you were to be on your own, Beckett would send my father after you. How long would you last after that?"

The Captain glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Noting the expression on her face, he sighed dramatically and muttered, "I'm still working on it. But I will **_not_** be going back to the Locker, love. You can count on that."

Immediately after he said these words, Jack pulled the trigger on the pistol that was pointed towards Barbossa—Ophelia withheld a shriek, but was startled to realize that there was no sound of gunfire. Nor was Barbossa even shot… he just stood there, looking highly affronted.

In return, Barbossa tried to fire at Jack, also to no avail. He scoffed and threw his weapon upon the deck, muttering, "Wet powder!" like he would utter a curse.

Ophelia exhaled in relief. At least no one would be murdered.

At that moment, Will's voice announced, "Look, out in the distance. An island! It could be worth exploring. We can resupply there and get back to shooting each other later!"

Ophelia followed Will's gaze and realized that yes, there was an island quite close by. Based on the thriving foliage she could see upon it, she figured there would be quite a lot of fresh water and game to hunt. It certainly did seem like a logical place to stop for a day or so.

Jack, however, seized the opportunity to say, "You lead the shore party. I'll stay with my ship."

"I'll not be leaving **_my_** ship in your command," spat Barbossa evenly.

Apparently as exasperated as Ophelia was, Will shouted, "Why don't you **_both_** go and leave the ship in **_my_** command? Temporarily," he added quickly, seeing the death glares that both supposed Captains were shooting his way.

Jack and Barbossa stared at each other, as if daring the other to protest this new idea. Luckily, no obstructions were made. It was then decided that Jack, Barbossa, Elizabeth, Marty, and Gibbs would all go ashore and resupply while the others remained on the _Pearl._

Hearing this, Jack turned towards Ophelia and asked, "Are you sure you don't want to go with us, lassie? Could be a good chance to regain your land legs."

Ophelia figured she knew why Jack was offering—he wanted to talk to her about the night she had seen her mother. Maybe he wanted to apologize, or clear the air, or even stand by his actions. But the fact remained that she still hadn't quite settled on how she felt about the whole ordeal; the only thing she felt wholeheartedly was the desire to rescue her father from Beckett.

And so she answered, "Thank you, Jack, but no. I should remain here and get the whole story about what I missed while I was asleep."

The Captain of the _Pearl_ nodded curtly, understanding her unspoken message. Without any other words, he turned away and moved towards the helm so he could steer the ship closer to the island.

Realizing that the conversation was, for the most part, over, everyone else stalked away to find something to do until the shore party was to disembark from the ship. Ophelia stood alongside the railing of the _Pearl,_ simply watching the waves grow larger as they sailed closer to the shore.

When they were only a couple hundred feet away, however, Ophelia noticed something that made her heart shake.

As she was attempting to discover whether or not her eyes were feeding her the truth about what she saw, Will approached and amusedly remarked, "You're finally awake."

Upon hearing her silence and noting her expression, he became concerned. Placing a hand on her arm, he queried, "What is it?"

In response, Ophelia pointed to the shore.

Will followed her gaze and inhaled sharply.

Upon the beach was the lifeless body of the Kraken, some of its tentacles mauled and still singed from when they had burned it, so long ago. The teeth were barely visible, a few missing, a few broken. Out of the water, it looked so out of place and out of time. Perhaps the most frightening thing about the sight, though, was the connotation underneath it.

"If Beckett truly does have such control over him… that he would kill his faithful pet?" whispered Ophelia in horror.

Will raised an eyebrow and repeated, " ** _Pet?!_** "

Ophelia ignored this. She was more concerned about the fact that now she knew exactly how afraid Jones was of Beckett. Her father was just as afraid of death as Jack was, and he was being threatened with it perhaps every day.

"I want to do something," Ophelia whispered. She felt herself shaking, but it was no longer out of fear. It was due to her own outrage and determination. She wouldn't have Beckett terrorizing her family **_any more._**

"I know," Will murmured, placing an arm around her shoulder.

"I want to do something **_now,_** " she hissed, leaning into Will. As loath as she was to see the carcass of the Kraken on the beach, it helped to fuel her anger. It helped her remember what she was fighting for now, **_who_** she was fighting for.

It wasn't just Will anymore. Now it was her father, and Jack.

And herself.

Will didn't say anything in response. There wasn't anything to say—Ophelia appreciated that he understood this. She merely stood, her eyes locked on the Kraken, her thoughts floating around in her head. They migrated from her father, to Beckett, to Will and his father, back to her mother.

Her mother…

Ophelia blinked and noticed that the shore party had reached the beaches. She sighed, glad that she had chosen to remain on the ship. She didn't know what she would've done if she were to have seen the Kraken so up close.

And she needed her best friend nearby in case her thoughts began to overwhelm her.

As she was thinking this, Will proved himself still adept at reading her expression. "You're thinking about your mother."

Ophelia smiled thinly. He wasn't completely right, but he also wasn't wrong. Knowing that she needed to maintain her composure, she simply answered, "Yes, I am. It appears that Jones is taking care of her. I suppose it is a small comfort. But… there was so much I wanted to ask and say. I'd always imagined that if I ever saw her again, I'd have all the time in the world to ask about her and father, about myself, about what I should do next. But all I could do was say the goodbye that I could not when I was a child."

"You feel disappointed," murmured Will, placing an arm around her shoulder.

She nodded and replied, "Yes. Because the opportunity is gone now, and will never arise again."

"You still have Jones."

This made Ophelia laugh. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to think about what life would be like with Jones beside her, living in Port Royal with her as her father. It would be something, for certain. With that laugh on her lips, she retorted, "I do, but I do not believe he would ever give me advice or tell me about his past like a father normally would. He's Davy Jones, after all."

"True. I wish there was something else I could do for you, Ophie."

"There is. Just… be here for me."

Hearing these words, Will exhaled softly and started to smile. Pulling her close with the arm around her shoulder, he said, "I would be honored."

Ophelia smiled and leaned into the gesture, feeling much better. She finally forced herself to gaze away from the shore and cautiously looked up at her friend. He was gazing out over the sea, a small smile on his face. But then he glanced down at her and noticed her gaze—seeing her, he sighed, "You are beautiful, Ophelia."

She felt her heart dance victoriously in her chest, but was careful to keep her voice steady and calm when she asked, "What makes you say so?"

"Everything about you."

And then Will was kissing her again, and everything felt right in the world a second time. But this time, she wouldn't block out her happiness with fear. This time, she would allow herself to hope. With everything that had happened and was happening and was going to happen, she finally decided that the little moments of happiness were worth everything else; all the pain, all the anticipation, all the uncertainty.

So she kissed him back and let herself feel vulnerable. She allowed herself to feel the comfort of his embrace, and notice how he kissed her: with restraint and yet with hunger, with care and yet reckless abandon. As if this was something he too had waited for. She felt warm again—his lips lightly locked in her own, and his grasp on her waist was firm but protective.

Before she knew she was asking, the words were out of Ophelia's mouth. "Will, what did you mean when you said your affections for me… were growing?"

She promptly turned a bright shade of red. Most unfortunately, Will noticed and chuckled. He removed the arm from Ophelia's back and placed his hand on the side of her face. "It means that each day, I care for you a little bit more, Ophie. And I am already—"

But he stopped. Something had stolen his attention—she followed his gaze and noticed a faint but quickly growing silhouette of another ship over the horizon. And when she looked back at Will again, she saw there was worry deep in his eyes.

Ophelia wished, more than anything, to hear what the remaining words would've been from him. But when he said, his voice hard and determined, "Be careful, Ophie. Sao Feng is coming," she knew that the moment had passed.

Careful to keep her disappointment hidden, she merely nodded and waited.

It didn't take long for them to arrive. Within the next couple of minutes, about fifteen guards and Sao Feng himself were aboard the _Pearl,_ all glaring about the ship with a ravenous desire.

"Where is Sparrow?" demanded Sao Feng.

"On the island. Resupplying the ship," Will returned evenly, and with no more emotion in his voice than had been in Sao Feng's.

Sao Feng grunted and declared, in a manner that indicated he would not be persuaded otherwise, "Then we will wait for him."

Will looked back at Ophelia and, seeing her concern, shot her a glance. It was clear that he was trying to tell her to not be frightened, and to allow him to deal with Sao Feng since he had made the deal in the first place.

But Ophelia worried nonetheless, especially as she was deeply certain that the situation wouldn't be resolved without a fight.

* * *

The news about Sao Feng's arrival travelled fast upon the _Pearl._ Before long, Pintel, Cotton, Tia Dalma, and Ragetti were all privy to the man's purpose aboard the ship, and the three men had decided to treat Will with cool disdain. As Will was careful to never include Ophelia's presence in his telling of the story about the deal he made, the pirates were perfectly friendly to **_her._**

At last, on the third day since the shore party had left to resupply the _Pearl,_ they returned. Only to find it all but commandeered by Sao Feng and his men.

Barbossa was the first to regather his wits to exclaim, "Sao Feng! You showing up here is truly a remarkable coincidence!"

Sao Feng, however, did not seem to care for whatever Barbossa had to say. His dark eyes travelled immediately to Jack, who didn't seem pleased at **_all_**. As it was, Sao Feng shouted, "Jack Sparrow! You paid me great insult once."

"That doesn't sound like me," returned Jack, sardonic as usual.

This only awarded him a punch to the face.

Seeing the violent gesture, Ophelia inhaled sharply and found herself rushing to upright Jack, who had crumpled to the deck. The Captain of the _Pearl_ accepted the hand she held out to him and grumbled, "Thank ye, lassie."

"Of course, Jack," she replied, though she didn't take her eyes off of Sao Feng. If he tried to punch the Captain again, Ophelia would make him regret it.

As it was, Sao Feng was no longer interested in abusing Jack. He walked towards Will instead and remarked, "Honor our bargain. May I take him?"

"And what bargain be that?" interrupted Barbossa, his eyes narrowed.

Will turned toward Barbossa and, almost smugly, answered, "I need the _Pearl_ to free my father. That's the only reason I came on this voyage."

Jack scoffed and grated, "He needs the _Pearl._ And **_you_** felt guilty," he added towards Elizabeth. Then he turned to Barbossa and shouted, "And **_you_** with your Brethren Court! Did no one come to save me just because they missed me?!"

"I did," Ophelia blurted out. The Captain blinked and stared at her with a newfound shock in his eyes. A turmoil of emotions ran through them as she said, "I made you a promise, remember? You are my friend. I would not abandon you if there was something to be done to save you. For… whatever it's worth."

The Captain stared at her for a moment. The way that he did made Ophelia wonder if her response changed something that she didn't quite understand. At last, a genuine smile—an expression she had seen rarely despite all the time she'd spent with him—crept onto his face. And with it came the words, "It's worth more than you know, love."

Ophelia offered a hesitant smile his direction—but the sound of Sao Feng's voice brought them back to the situation at hand. The other man stated, "Speaking of, Jack, there's another old friend who wants to pay you a visit."

Jack exhaled irritably and retorted, "I don't think I can survive any more visits from old friends."

"Well, here is your chance to find out," chuckled Sao Feng, and then he stepped aside, revealing a silhouette of a **_third_** ship sailing towards the _Pearl._

The sails read _East India Trading Company_.

"No," gasped Ophelia, throwing a hand to her mouth. She couldn't face Beckett now, not now when she was so full of hope for her love and freedom. Not **_now._**

Hearing her gasp, Will seized her hand and exclaimed, "I will protect you, Ophelia. He will not have you. You are staying right here with me."

She wanted to believe him… but she knew she couldn't afford to.

The following five minutes that it took for the EITC ship to arrive felt like a thousand years. Ophelia could feel her fear rooting her in place, preventing her from hiding underneath the deck the way she so desperately wanted to. The last thing she wanted was to face the snake who could kill her father and her best friend in an instant, and without a second thought.

But Ophelia was tired of being afraid. She started to breathe… and then began to think.

Beckett was her fiancée because she had said yes. Yet he had been the one to propose the deal. When Ophelia had asked him to allow her to go with Will to find Jack Sparrow, he had caved and said yes—because he wanted her to approve of him, to be grateful for him, to eventually love him.

Whether he knew it or not, Ophelia **_did_** have power over him. **_He_** had wanted to marry **_her._** He had played on her fears to begin their engagement, but afterwards, everything else he wanted, he had tried to gain by being genuine. He wanted her approval, he wanted her hand, he wanted her to love him.

If she could play on his desires, she could slowly gain his trust. He had played on her fears in order to put her in this unbearably difficult situation—now she would play his own game against him.

Ophelia no longer felt any fear. She breathed deeply. If she played this right, she could hold him in the palm of her hand.

The moment she came to this conclusion, there he stood, on the deck of the _Pearl._

Cutler Beckett.

Beckett's icy eyes immediately landed on Ophelia. A tense silence overtook the deck. Ophelia waited with baited breath for it to be broken. She had no idea what would happen now. Who would move first?

Who would begin the game?

As it turned out, it was neither him nor her. Without any other warning, Sao Feng turned to his men, pointed at Ophelia, and commanded, "Grab her!"

Startled, Ophelia shrieked and lurched backward as Sao Feng's guards rushed forward and pinned her arms behind her back, shoving her in the direction of Cutler Beckett. Over the sound of her own remonstrations, she heard Will scream, "No! Release her! She wasn't part of any deal!"

He was answered by Sao Feng's guards restraining his own wrists, too.

"On the contrary, she is," contested Beckett, his voice cold like iron. "She is and has been for the past number of months, my fiancée."

At these words, Ophelia had to take a few more deep breaths. She was right about Beckett wanting her approval, wasn't she? Because if she wasn't… things would become infinitely more difficult, as well as terrifying.

Either way, she wanted to rip the gold band off her finger and rid herself of any association she had with him forever.

Before she could say anything in her own defense, Will shouted, "I do not care! Take whatever you want, take the _Pearl,_ but let her go!"

"The _Pearl_ is already in my possession," remarked Beckett, a reticent upturn to his lips.

Sao Feng apparently didn't like this comment. With remonstration, he snarled, "You agreed the _Black Pearl_ was to be mine."

Beckett simply chuckled and raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think I'd relinquish the only ship that can outrun the _Dutchman?_ If you wish to contest me for the ship, I should inform you that the remainder of my fleet is ready to intervene should the sounds of fighting begin."

Sao Feng abruptly halted, hatred in his eyes.

Will seized the opportunity that the silence provided to exclaim, "Lord Beckett! What do you want in exchange for Ophelia's freedom?"

Ophelia's gaze swerved to Will, who was staring at her with legitimate fear. It was clear that he had not thought to be double-crossed, much less for Sao Feng to also be double-crossed. The East India Trading Company stood to have everything in their possession now… including herself.

Will seemed to realize this; Ophelia could only describe the look upon his face as brokenhearted.

"I want nothing from you, Turner," returned Beckett. He moved to face Ophelia, who was summoning all her self-control to prevent hot tears of frustration from spilling across her face. "Miss Bennett made a deal with me regarding pardon from your crimes—unless you were to offer your life, our deal cannot be undone."

At these words, a resolute expression overcame Will's face. Ophelia knew what that meant. She knew what he would say.

And so, before he could offer himself to Beckett, she gasped, "No." Despite how angry her engagement made her and how restrained it made her feel, she still felt greater fear and pain at the prospect of losing Will than at the fact that she would live married to Beckett. Especially now, after all they'd undergone together throughout this entire journey. "No, Will. I made a deal."

Ophelia looked straight into his eyes, wishing she could telepathically tell him all she was thinking—she had to play Beckett's game, to protect not only him, but her father and herself. If she put up a fight of any kind, any or all of them could be in very serious trouble. She would not have that. She would not lose Will now, nor her father.

She would **_not._**

"I'm glad to see you understand," Beckett attempted to croon. He only sounded condescending. He placed a hand on her shoulder. It made her feel cold… not at all warm like Will's touch did. "Let's you, Sparrow, and I all progress to my quarters. We have much to discuss."

There was nothing Ophelia could do as Sao Feng's guards relinquished their hold on her and allowed Beckett to escort her across the plank. She looked over her shoulder towards Will, uncertain of when she would see him again, or what would happen to him or even herself…

But the moment that she locked eyes with him, he began to fight. He smacked a few of Sao Feng's guards to the ground and jabbed backwards at the man holding his wrists together. As he fought, he was shouting, "Ophie! **_Ophie!_** **"**

Despite his efforts, however, Beckett somehow managed to rush forward and withdraw his sword. Within seconds, it was perfectly positioned to slice Will's neck, should he so desire.

Noting the movement, Ophelia screamed, " ** _No!_** Leave him!"

Beckett hesitated and glanced back at his fiancée with calculating eyes. Ophelia used the split second she had been provided to steel herself, as if she didn't care very much at all about Will. She raised her chin and glared authoritatively, hoping that her confidence would cause Beckett to back away from him.

Much to Ophelia's relief, it seemed to have worked. Beckett scoffed and sheathed his rapier, reluctant as he appeared to do so. Once the weapon was gone, he turned back to Will and threatened, "If my bride-to-be hadn't intervened, you would be dead. Do not test me again. I will have no restraint if you do."

Throughout the exchange, Ophelia only had eyes for Will, just as he only had eyes for her. She saw the desperation within him and felt a lump form in her throat. She cared for him so incredibly deeply… if he died, she would be destroyed. And so she exclaimed, "Stay here, Will. I will be fine."

It was clear Will didn't believe her. He only stared at her in pain as Beckett placed a hand at her elbow and gently started to lead her away. He obviously believed himself to have failed, perhaps at the thing that mattered most.

But as the guards forced Jack to follow Ophelia and Beckett back onto his ship, Will exclaimed, "Jack—Jack! Protect her. Please."

Jack didn't say anything in response. He only marched forward until he was standing next to Ophelia and, as they began to cross onto the other ship, he muttered, "Don't worry, lassie. I'll get us out of this. Mark my words."

Ophelia nodded. But she knew that where she was going, the only person she could afford to trust would be herself.

* * *

Hello again, friends! So uh... it's been like four months since I've updated and that's pretty bad... so I'm really sorry about that! Life is crazy, is the best thing I can come up with to tell ya. If you've gotten this far, however, this means you're a real champion for coming back to the story! Thank you so much! I hope the chapter was to your liking. Whether it was or wasn't, feel free to leave me your feedback in that little review box below. I always love to hear from you!

Until next time,

~Avalain Nightshade


	25. Chapter 24

_**WARNING:**_ This chapter may have sensitive or triggering content. A personal rule of mine is that I do not write anything that could be classified as triggering in an explicit manner, but I wanted to ensure that all of you wonderful readers aren't caught off-guard by what may be present in this update. I will be sure to clearly point out where that content begins and where it ends. I just wanted to warn you and let **_you_** determine whether you read that certain section of text or not.

* * *

The ship that Ophelia and Jack were brought onto was, according to Beckett, called the _Endeavour._ It was eerily clean and out of time to Ophelia; the thoughts were most likely spawned due to all the time she'd spent among pirates.

She'd rather be with those pirates than here.

Once Ophelia stepped foot onto the _Endeavour,_ all the fear and pain she'd been suppressing began to bubble out of her. She would be risking so much on this cursed ship. Her knees began to give out from underneath her. Noting her failing state, Jack lunged forward and grabbed her to prevent her from collapsing.

"Come on, love. I'm here. I won't let you go—you aren't alone," the Captain whispered, in a futile attempt to cheer her up. And whilst Ophelia truly did appreciate both his words and his presence, the reality was that as of this moment, she was no longer free to love and be loved in return. She would soon officially take up her mantle of being nothing more than a prize.

Beckett too noticed Ophelia's state, but he apparently decided to interpret it as a sign of relief. With a somewhat complacent smile, he gently purred, "There, there, Miss Bennett. You'll be safe here. I will protect you."

Ophelia couldn't help but compare Beckett's inflection with these words to Will's—Will had said it softly, and with something Ophelia could only relate to love ** _._** Beckett said it casually, as if he didn't mean it at all.

It only confirmed the idea that she would not find love here.

Jack seemed to recognize this too, because he glared up at Beckett with a malice that Ophelia had never before seen from him. The pirate seemed to recognize the precarious position that he was in, and thus limited that malcontent when he exclaimed, "I think I'll stay with her and make sure she's alright."

"Nonsense, pirate," spat Beckett. "I won't have you performing the job that should be mine. She's **_my_** wife-to-be."

This statement only spurred Ophelia into deeper despair. Hearing it said aloud made the entire situation that much realer.

But she restrained her growing despondency for Will and her father. If she didn't say what Beckett wanted to hear, or act the way he desired her to, it was possible that he could use them against her.

Her only advantage at the moment was that Beckett had no idea that Davy Jones was her father.

With this thought in mind, Ophelia somehow managed to block out all of the unfeeling remarks that her fiancé shot her way. She managed to find some strength in comfort in the fact that she was able to keep her father safe for now.

Still, she knew she'd have to watch her step. Will was incredibly close by, and she wouldn't put it past Beckett to return to the _Pearl_ to harm him.

"How about this, my dear? You go to your quarters and have some time to rest and relax, and I'll talk with Captain Sparrow in my room next door. Does that sound good to you?"

Ophelia blinked and realized that this was a question directed for **_her_** —relaying it again in her mind, she figured that this would do for now. And so she nodded and replied, "I think that should be fine."

Beckett smiled. Oddly enough, it seemed real. Ophelia breathed out.

She had been right.

"Excellent. I'll direct you to your cabin. Perhaps there you could have a bath or take a nap during my conversation with Mr. Sparrow," he remarked. His voice was more docile than Ophelia had ever heard it, even in Port Royal the first time she had ever met him.

"You won't hurt Jack, will you?" she implored, unable to leave her worry unspoken. She glanced at the Captain of the _Pearl_ and noted that he seemed astonished by her worry, as if he never would've expected it. "He **_has_** saved my life before… my dear."

She thought it safe to add this last term of endearment.

Apparently she was right, because after the addition, Beckett smiled compliantly and answered, "I promise that our discussion will be strictly diplomatic."

Ophelia was more comforted with this than she thought she would be. She allowed herself to smile as well before glancing at Jack—with all her might, she tried to scream, _Don't do anything stupid,_ to him through her eyes alone.

As it was, Jack was quite adept at reading expressions, and he seemed to pick right up with this one. With a short smirk, he jutted his chin forward, about as close to a confirmation as he could manage with the leader of the East India Trading Company standing in between them.

Then he turned and stepped inside the Captain's Quarters. Beckett followed him, leaving her alone.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Ophelia sighed and crossed her arms, feeling utterly vulnerable without someone she trusted nearby. Throughout all the time she'd spent at sea, the only time she'd been without Will or Jack was when she thought Will had died upon the _Dutchman._

The difference was that this time, Ophelia would have to be on her own for much longer, and she'd have to discover how to play the game quickly.

With a sigh, she entered the room that Beckett had gestured to earlier. The first thing that caught her eye was the large array of dresses that were displayed upon a rack. At least half a dozen expensive-looking gowns were all aligned, some of them much more fanciful than the others.

Ophelia blinked and glanced down at her own clothes. They were ragged, for certain. She moved towards the rack and stopped upon noticing the porcelain bathtub that was in the corner of the cabin.

The shock of seeing such a heavy and costly item in a ship made her stop where she stood. Sitting beside it were a few buckets of steaming water. Was this supposed to be some sort of sign?

She figured that even if it was, it was probably justified. Ophelia couldn't remember the last time she'd had a clean spring to bathe in. And since Beckett and Jack were in the other room, it would be safe enough.

With a sigh, she cautiously glanced through the windows. No one was in sight.

Before she could lose her nerve, Ophelia gently removed her tatty clothes and stepped into the tub. She grabbed the buckets of hot water and started to pour them in with her. Admittedly, the hot water was a great antidote for her stress.

Soon after, she located a bar of soap. Suddenly determined to get clean, she began to scrub her skin ferociously, hoping that she could remove every last speck of dirt and mud and seawater from her being. The water began to turn murky around her, but Ophelia took it more as a sign of pride than disgust. Clearly, the bath was working.

It took a while, but at last, she felt like her cleanliness was satisfactory. With a deep exhale, she used what little clean water remained in the buckets to rinse herself off. She then grabbed the towel beside her and stepped out of the tub, drying herself with it.

Realizing the clothes that Jack had given her would simply make her mucky again, Ophelia wrapped the towel around her body, turned back towards the rack that housed all the dresses—and promptly gasped.

Standing in the doorway was Beckett, who had been casually observing her for who-knew-how-long. She locked eyes with him and immediately knew that he hadn't walked through the door at that moment.

Ophelia had no idea what to say. She felt her face slowly heat up with both anger and embarrassment, furious with herself for letting her guard down in a place like this. Clutching the towel even tighter across her body, she shuffled towards the closet, shaking as she perused the gowns.

Try as she might, she couldn't ignore his presence when he started walking further into the room— ** _towards_** her. Ophelia felt her breathing grow shallow and her hands start to shake. She didn't want this. She didn't want this.

She wanted Will. She wanted Jack. She wanted **_anyone_** to be with her right now. Just so she wouldn't be alone.

****** ** _Warning_** ******

"I stand by what I said on our first meeting," said Beckett's voice, closer than Ophelia wanted it.

Still shaking, she turned just enough to see him from her peripherals.

Realizing that she was expected to respond, she somehow managed to whisper past the lump in her throat, "What is that?"

Beckett chuckled, as if her hesitance amused him. "That you are a woman of great beauty." As he said this, he lightly placed a hand on her shoulder; Ophelia tensed with fear as she felt him begin to kiss the side of her neck, his hands trailing down the sides of her body, clutching tightly at her waist.

What was she supposed to do? Did she wait and pray that it would be over soon? Did she play along for the sake of the game? Or did she stop him here and now, before it would be too late?

She thought of what was at stake. At worst, Will's life… versus her own body.

It was one thing to promise to marry him. That had been consensual. But this… this would be something else entirely. Ophelia wasn't ready for this—not yet. She had barely made peace with the fact that she was **_engaged_** to this man. If this continued, she wouldn't be able to deal with the thought that Beckett made love to her before she was ready, before they were married.

She didn't want this. She didn't.

"No."

Ophelia startled herself by how loud the word had escaped her mouth. Apparently, so was Beckett, because he stopped and gazed at her with confusion. His expression morphed, however, when she rapidly began shaking her head and repeated, "No. I don't—I'm not…"

She squeezed her eyes shut, overcome with fear. She was certain she would be ignored, used, and then forced to marry this man.

But she didn't feel any anger from her fiancé. He let go of her—and didn't touch her again. In fact, all he said was, "I am sorry. The last thing I would want to do, Miss Bennett, is frighten you."

Ophelia opened her eyes again, shocked. The Lord of the EITC was looking at her with what appeared to be concern… noting her rather stricken look, he remarked, "I only entered to grab a scroll. I shall leave you to be dressed. Would you join Captain Sparrow and I in the room next door when you are ready?"

Beyond relieved, Ophelia could hardly keep back the smile. At least soon, she would be with Jack. Not alone. She nodded quickly in affirmation.

Beckett smiled as well and turned towards the desk on the opposite side of the room. And then, true to his word, he grabbed a long piece of parchment from it, nodded towards her one more time, and left.

****** ** _Over_** ******

Alone in the room once more, Ophelia sunk to her knees, still clutching her towel. She still felt herself shaking, thanking whatever gods that were watching over her.

Things could have gone much, much worse.

She clasped a hand over her mouth, hardly able to stop the tears from forming in her eyes. She didn't know whether to continue being terrified or relieved or both. If she truly was forced to marry Beckett, the day would come when she would no longer be able to refuse him. If she wasn't, she had no idea how it would happen or if she'd be ready for it.

The thoughts wouldn't stop roaming through her head now. Her fear prevented her from rising. Before long, she lost track of the time she'd spent kneeling upon the floor. She wasn't quite ready to enter the room with Beckett again, but she knew that soon she would have to be.

Beckett had proven that he wouldn't harm her, or take any sort of advantage of her. That was a small comfort, and it helped to steel her resolve so she could get up, get dressed, and begin learning her way around the _Endeavour._

Just as she was about to get up, however, a loud _BOOM!_ crackled through the air and a large hole appeared in the wall. Ophelia shrieked and leapt to her feet, tiptoeing towards the hole that had appeared.

It was the size of a cannonball.

"Lassie!"

The door burst open, and in sprinted Jack. Ophelia gasped sharply and tightened her grip on her towel, painfully aware that she hadn't yet gotten dressed.

Jack, however, seemed unaffected. "That's our signal, get your fancy get-up on and let's move!"

"W-well, turn around, then!" she commanded.

Jack groaned in remonstration, but the sound was cut off by another huge _BOOM!_ Almost annoyed, he shouted, "We're being shot at by the cannons of my _Pearl_ , and your biggest concern is that I don't look at you getting dressed?!"

"Pretty much!" she retorted, rolling her eyes. "Now turn around!"

Jack groaned again but did as he was told. Once he had, Ophelia grabbed a set of undergarments and the first dress she laid eyes on—a lovely short-sleeved powder blue number—and slipped them on. Once she was dressed, she looked over her shoulder and said, "Alright, you're safe to turn around now."

Jack did so, but afterwards, didn't move. He simply looked at her.

This went on for long enough that Ophelia started to feel uncomfortable. Shuffling somewhat, she asked a bit defensively, "What? What is it?"

"Nothing," he answered. The Captain darted forward and seized Ophelia's hand before yanking her towards the door, ignoring her yelp and exclaiming, "Now's our chance to get off this blasted ship!"

Ophelia gaped. "But—!"

"No time for arguments! For once, Turner's and my interests align—I'm keeping you safe!" exclaimed Jack, sauntering out of the hold of the _Endeavour_ without so much as a flinch as another _BOOM_ announced its presence. Ophelia, meanwhile, was pressed next to Jack thanks to his arm around her shoulder.

"I thought you didn't keep your promises, Jack," she bantered, raising an eyebrow.

The Captain of the _Pearl_ snuck a look at her and chuckled. "Usually, I don't. But when I deem the matter severe enough—I keep me word."

Ophelia laughed softly, but before she could say anything else, they had reached the deck of the _Endeavour._ For some reason, the East India Trading Company members were simply letting them pass. This confused Ophelia, but she figured not to question it until she and Jack were safe.

Without any explanation, Jack shooed her up the stairs to the highest point of the deck. A cannon was sitting there, loaded and waiting to be fired. Ophelia observed, bemused, as the Captain of the _Pearl_ threw a rope above a pole upon the mast and tied the other end around the cannonball. He then started to light a torch, as if preparing to fire the cannon.

That was when Beckett appeared upon the deck. Ophelia swallowed, unsure of whether he was going to stop them or not. The leader of the Company, however, merely gazed at Jack with wide eyes and exclaimed, "You're mad!"

"Thank goodness for that because if I weren't, this would probably never work," declared Jack with a smirk. He held out a hand to Ophelia and added, "Your carriage, my lady."

"No. You're not taking her with you," growled Beckett.

"On the contrary!" replied Jack. "I'm not leaving without her!"

Ophelia blinked, wondering exactly how this would be any sort of bargaining chip. She looked back at Beckett, whose face was turning somewhat red with either remonstration, anger, or both. After a brief moment of contemplation, Beckett spat, "Fine. She'll go back. But keep her safe—I expect her to return once our deal is complete."

Jack's eyes narrowed and he said nothing. Instead, he looked back to Ophelia and grinned.

"Do you trust me, lassie?" he queried.

This brought her back to the first time he'd asked her that question—when they were escaping from the cannibals together, and he had thrown her over the cliff, this was exactly what he'd asked. Back then, she had said no, she didn't trust him.

But things had changed, and this time was different.

"Yes," she answered, and she took his extended hand.

Jack's grin grew larger, and he seized Ophelia around the waist. She gasped at the sudden gesture and watched, fascinatedly horrified, as he took his torch and moved it to the fuse.

Beckett dived to the side, and Ophelia felt a painful tug as she and Jack were yanked up into the air. She heard both the Captain and herself screaming as they were weightless, diving towards the riggings of the _Pearl._ The wind whipping her face made it difficult to breathe for those brief three seconds, and then Ophelia felt herself crash into the sails of the _Pearl,_ with Jack still holding onto her tight. Realizing that they were no longer airborne, and that they were back on the _Pearl,_ she began to laugh.

Jack chuckled, but held a finger to her lips. Grinning, she whispered, "What?"

"Let's move over there," Jack responded, pointing to the helm of the ship.

Silently they moved, trying not to laugh as the crew of the _Pearl_ searched for them in the water. Once they were in position, Jack coughed, gaining the attention of the crew. Ophelia laughed aloud at their many expressions—Barbossa looked furious, Pintel and Ragetti dumbfounded, Gibbs annoyed, and Will relieved.

"And that was without a single drop of rum!" boasted Jack, squeezing Ophelia tight.

She laughed again and punched Jack in the arm. In response, the Captain kissed her temple—but Ophelia hardly registered the gesture as she removed herself from his grasp, her legs somewhat wobbly from the adrenaline. With help from the railings and from Jack, she descended onto the deck and walked towards Will, who was grinning as he saw her come close.

"Are you alright?" he asked immediately, holding out a hand to steady her. "You are, aren't you?"

Before she could say anything in return, however, Jack stepped in front of her and brutally pushed aside Will's extended hand. His jesting expression had vanished completely, and he now looked ready to kill. "Send this pestilent, traitorous, cowhearted, yeasty codpiece to the brig."

Ophelia blinked and stared at Will, whose expression had altered from deeply caring to murderous in the three seconds it took Jack to relay his string of insults. Pintel and Ragetti placed meaty hands on Will's shoulders, and the severity of this sentence smacked into her like a brick.

"Jack—Jack, surely we don't need such drastic measures," she implored, grabbing his arm and whirling him around to face her. She felt her chest concave. She'd only just returned to the _Pearl…_ she didn't have the energy to mediate Jack's and Will's spats again.

The Captain scoffed and replied, though not unkindly, "He tried to steal my ship, lassie. This is **_my_** ship, and woe be to any codpiece who attempts to take it from me."

"I daresay we went through enough trouble saving you to warrant a pardon," she continued to protest.

"He explicitly said he partook on this journey for himself! You're the only one here who I could forgive for a transgression such as this."

"And why is that?" Ophelia demanded, crossing her arms. She sized up Jack and noticed that he wasn't as composed as he usually was. Normally he was calm, collected, cool. Now, he looked agitated. "What have I done that Will hasn't?"

" ** _Cared,_** Ophelia!"

These two words were exclaimed as a shout, one that made Ophelia and many others on deck jolt. For that brief moment in time, she could see exactly how Jack was feeling—vulnerable, betrayed, and worried.

With another sigh, Jack stared into her eyes and repeated, "You cared."

Ophelia's mouth dropped open a little, and she stared at the Captain. It was all she could bring herself to do. For some reason, she couldn't argue anymore. She merely looked at Will, wanting to apologize for failing to spare him from the brig, but he just shook his head and murmured, "It's alright, Ophie. I'll be fine. I'm just glad that… that you're back."

She swallowed and nodded, looking at the floor. Will was then marched away, escorted by Gibbs, Pintel, and Ragetti. Once he was gone, Ophelia turned to Jack, but the Captain was already swaggering back towards the helm of the ship, ready to resume its command as if he were as in control as he always was.

She knew he wasn't.

* * *

Hello again, readers! Three weeks this time, eh? That's not terrible, right? Anyway, I hope you all have been having fantastic Holiday Seasons filled with healing and joy, and I will continue to wish the very best for you and your families. I also hope that my above warning was okay, I don't typically write that sort of content but I felt like for the purpose of the setting (and for what I have planned in future chapters), it was a risk I needed to take. As always, however, feel free to leave your thoughts in that there review box just below this author's note, and continue to have a Happy Holiday season!

Until next time!

~Avalain Nightshade


	26. Chapter 25

Ophelia spent the next few hours sailing the Pearl, thinking about all that had just happened. It was overwhelming—in a matter of hours, she had been unfortunately reunited with her fiancé, rescued via cannon by Jack, and then watched Will be imprisoned in the brig of the Pearl. Everything seemed infinitely more complicated now than before, when the goal was simply to collect the heart of Davy Jones.

Realizing that she had no idea where the crew was headed now, Ophelia sighed and rose from her seat upon the deck. Loath as she was to leave the view of the sunset, she turned towards the helm to ask Jack about their destination.

When she arrived, she noticed that the Captain didn't even seem to recognize her presence. He was staring blankly over the ocean, his eyes slightly narrowed, a look of concentration plastered upon his face. Ophelia knew that this was a result of the short argument they'd had earlier.

She stepped up next to him and cautiously asked, "Jack?"

Jack started and looked at her, only replying with, "Mm?"

"Where are we going?"

"Shipwreck Cove, love," he answered. His voice was soft, and not at all filled with the suavity that usually accompanied it.

Admittedly worried, Ophelia nodded and turned the conversation to something else. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Quite," he responded.

Ophelia wanted to press the matter, but the Captain appeared to be in no mood to talk. The way that he gazed over the ocean, the slight pout in his gaze, signified that he would prefer to be left alone… at least for now.

With a sigh, she turned away and began to leave, wondering if she should go back to her spot upon the deck. The sunset was about to enter its fullest stage, but she figured that now would be a good time to figure out what, if anything, occurred during her absence upon the ship.

She knew only one person could tell her that.

So, with a careful look behind her shoulder to make sure Jack wasn't watching her leave, Ophelia carefully edged over to the door that led below deck. She knew that she had to find Will in the brig and see how he was doing.

Somehow, she managed to sneak her way past Pintel and Ragetti, both of whom were attempting to get her to tell them about what being reunited with Beckett was like. Although Ophelia knew they were merely trying to be funny, the fact of the matter was that she still hadn't quite recuperated from her encounter with him on the _Endeavour_ from before—and so, after a somewhat dirty glare, she pushed her way past them and darted towards the brig.

Once she opened the door and closed it behind her, she sighed. She hoped Jack hadn't watched where she had gone… in order to keep the others from hearing her presence, however, she knew she would have to be careful in descending the stairs. The wood of these particular steps always creaked loudly if one wasn't taking deliberate measures to be quiet.

After another moment, she was in the brig, and Will was in the first cell on the left, sitting and staring at his clasped hands. When he heard footsteps, he looked up and, upon seeing it was Ophelia, smiled thinly.

"Took you long enough to visit," he quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"I couldn't look **_too_** suspicious," she bantered right back, grabbing a chair just outside the cell and sitting in it.

Will chuckled, but was otherwise silent. His gaze turned back to the floor of his cell—Ophelia took this moment to look him over. She was saddened to see that he looked absolutely wracked with worry and concern. His brown eyes were fixated on a single piece of straw upon the floor, but even though he had just been jesting with her moments before, the emotions within his eyes suggested a mixture of anger, determination, fear, and one last thing Ophelia couldn't quite identify. The lines on his forehead told her that he was thinking about something deeply—as did the way his shoulders were tense.

"Relax," she crooned. "Everything's going to be alright."

"Did Jack tell you that?" he immediately retorted. The emotion she couldn't previously see in his face was now in his voice.

Jealousy.

Ophelia blinked. This was not a color of voice she had expected to hear from him. After a brief pause, she stated, "No. It's something I myself am saying. Why did you assume Jack told me that?"

Will's fascination with the piece of straw on the floor broke. His brown eyes found her own, and Ophelia was shocked to see how concerned he really was. But at her question, he merely sighed and shrugged, lowering his gaze as if he couldn't really bear to look at her any longer.

"Will," she coaxed, leaving her chair and kneeling beside the cell.

But he was still silent.

At this, Ophelia began to become frustrated. She didn't know what the hell was going on with him—he started to say something sweet to her, then wouldn't finish his sentence. He was blatantly worried about her and Jack, but wouldn't explain why. He kissed her underneath the deck, when she'd told him she loved him, and then **_again_** on the helm once Jack and the others had left the _Pearl_. And she had received no explanation for any of it.

The more she thought on it, the more annoyed she became. And, deciding she was tired of the chase, she began to speak these thoughts aloud.

"William Turner, I have had about enough of it. You have kissed me and cared for me and even tried to give your life to spare me from my engagement with Beckett. And yet you won't tell me why. I have tried to ask. I have told you why I have done the things that I have—and if you cannot say **_why_** you have done all this, especially while you've been engaged to Elizabeth Swann—"

"I'm not," he interrupted suddenly.

Ophelia was taken aback. At first, she didn't believe that he'd spoken. She wasn't even sure if she'd heard correctly.

Noting her confusion, Will smiled hopelessly and repeated, "I'm not engaged to her anymore."

Ophelia inhaled sharply, her mind whirling. He was no longer with the daughter of the governor? Why hadn't she heard about this previously? Astounded by the development and confused beyond belief, she demanded in a whisper, "When?"

"Just days after we rescued Jack," he answered. "I had… been doubting my intentions with Elizabeth for a while. Ever since—well, ever since my first experience with the Kraken…"

At this point, Will reached through the bars of the cell and gently placed a hand against the side of Ophelia's face. His eyes were wide and, Ophelia was shocked to notice, beginning to fill with tears as he continued, "When I was pulled underwater, I thought I was going to die. I thought that that letter I left you with would be the last words I would ever say to you. All I could think about was you; all we'd been through as children, how we grew up together, all we'd done during the last months together. And then I realized I had to survive. I had to survive for **_you_**. Not for anyone or anything else. I had to make it back to you. And once I saw the _Dutchman_ approaching, once I heard you screaming my name, I—I finally realized what I'd been feeling for you for years. I was in love with you."

Ophelia's throat was tight. She remembered how something had been on Will's mind, something had been bothering him, and he was going to tell her how he had realized something… and then he didn't say what.

Will seemed to notice this. With a hopeless smile, he exclaimed, "I didn't know what to do. When I saw Elizabeth again, I felt next to nothing. That battle on the beach—she was screaming for my help to grab the chest, but Maccus had **_you_** , and… to me, the choice was clear. I had to save you."

"So the news of my engagement…" choked Ophelia. She recalled how heartbroken he had been, how distraught.

 _Yes, Ophie. You should've let me die._

Will nodded and stared at the floor. "You gave your hand in marriage to save me. How ironic… you made the deal with the knowledge that you would watch me marry another. But now it is I who will watch you."

Ophelia tried to swallow, but the lump in her throat prevented her from doing so. It was incredibly difficult just to breathe. Hot tears rolled down her face as she clutched the iron bars so tightly her knuckles began to turn white. Her heart was screaming in both hope and pain as all she could think to say was, "Why? Why didn't you ever say any of this, Will?"

"I didn't know what to do at first," Will replied, gently grasping her and pulling her as closely to him as he could. Ophelia wished the cell didn't exist, so she could embrace him without painfully grappling metal bars. "I didn't know that you loved me at the time. I thought… I thought you were in love with Jack."

This statement made her laugh. The lump in her throat diminished in size, though it did not entirely vanish. With a sniffle, she giggled, "What? With Jack?"

Will nodded, admittedly sheepishly upon hearing Ophelia's tone of voice. "Yes. It wasn't until you told me you loved me that I was sure, and… as soon as you told me, I knew I had to call off my engagement with Elizabeth. I struggled to figure out how to bring up the topic with her—it turned out to be the day the two of you saw the ghosts of…"

Ophelia nodded to cut him off, not entirely eager to repeat the emotional experience of that night. Suddenly, Will's lack of communication with Elizabeth made much more sense. Things had just changed forever between them. Will attempting to comfort Elizabeth was probably the ** _last_** thing that would've helped her that night.

"I was going to tell you, but then Sao Feng arrived," Will added, his eyes drinking in her face. "I wasn't sure he would honor our deal—I thought it was likely that he would simply kill me and gain the _Pearl_ for himself. If that had been the case, I didn't want for you to… to be destroyed."

The woman found herself shaking, longing more than anything to be past the iron bars and in Will's arms. She felt her lip trembling, and was absolutely speechless.

Here she was, after years and years of fruitlessly loving and hoping and sacrificing—here she was, the words in the air and ringing in her ears.

"I love you, Ophelia. And I will do anything to be with you."

Ophelia exhaled softly and reached through the bars of the cell, her hand resting against the side of his face. And as she gazed at him, no more obstructions from her own mind, she could see the depth of the love he was feeling. It was no longer in her imagination or her wildest hopes—this was real.

"I wish I could unlock this cage," she lamented softly.

Will chuckled and rose from the floor of the brig, turning ever so slightly away from her. But then, with another laugh, he gazed at her sideways and smirked, "It's a good thing I managed to pick the lock of my cell before you came down here, then, isn't it."

Before Ophelia could even register what he had said, Will forced the door open and swept her into his embrace, holding her tighter than anyone had ever held her in her entire life.

"Will!" she gasped, both in utter shock and joy.

She didn't have to say anything else. Her best friend—her loved one—kissed her forehead and simply looked into her eyes. It was the most comfort Ophelia had gained from a gesture in ages… she sighed and leaned into him, wishing that she would never have to emerge from this newfound safety.

He began to kiss her, all of his words expressed here. And Ophelia had no reluctance whatsoever in returning them—she kissed him hungrily, drinking in every aspect of his presence that she could. This was the moment she had wondered about for literal years, wondering if it would ever come to pass.

When Will bit her lip, she moaned ever so slightly and of course promptly turned red. Will, however, just chuckled and kissed her on the cheek before moving his lips towards her neck—

Suddenly, a bolt of ice jolted through Ophelia's body, and she saw herself back in her room on the _Endeavour_. She felt Beckett's cold hands on her shoulders, trailing down her waist—but this time, they didn't stop. Although she knew this hadn't happened, she **_knew_** it hadn't, she felt them slide underneath the flimsy towel and trail over her stomach, grasp at her breasts—

Ophelia screamed and lurched backward, slamming into the wooden wall of the brig. She lunged her hands forward to protect her face and curled into a ball on the floor, sobbing and shrieking and shaking even more forcefully than she had two minutes ago. Her chest was compressed incredibly tightly and her throat was closed so she couldn't breathe, she felt like she was going to drown—

Will gasped and dove down next to her, panic immediately overtaking him. His beautiful brown eyes were full of alarm as he exclaimed, "I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—Ophelia? ** _Ophie!_** "

"It's not you, it's not you, it's—it's me, it's—the _Endeavour_ ," choked Ophelia, longing to tell him it wasn't his fault, it was anything but his fault, it was her own mind and fears that plagued her. She didn't know why it happened but it did, this horrid flashback that hadn't even occurred. All she could see was Beckett's cold, bright eyes boring into her soul, longing for her to say yes. "It's **_Beckett_** —"

"What did he do," whispered Will, cautiously placing his arm around Ophelia's shoulder. She noticed that the closer she was with Will, the faster the mirage started to fade, so she dove her face into his chest in a desperate attempt to banish the other man from her mind. "Gods—Ophelia, did he hurt you?"

"N-no, he didn't! I told him to stop, and he d-did but it's like I'm still **_th-there_** … I can't escape the fear I f-felt in that r-room…"

Ophelia's words were muffled as she spoke them from within Will's shirt, and she had a horrible stammer as she tried to express what she had undergone. She tried desperately to focus on something—anything—to help pull her back to reality and calm her nerves. As she kept her face in Will's chest, she realized that his shirt smelled like the sea and rum and vanilla—she remembered that she had washed their clothes during the past few days, hers and Will's and Tia Dalma's and Cotton's because Pintel and Ragetti claimed that a true pirate smelled like brine all the time and therefore didn't want their clothes washed—

Between focusing on her conversation with the two jokesters and the comfort of Will's warmth and smell, she began to breathe again. She wanted to think about those two things alone, silly as they may be.

As Ophelia was composing herself, she felt Will's grip around her tighten again: reassuring, supportive, patient. She was more grateful for this than she could ever verbally express.

It took another few minutes, but at last, Ophelia felt like she was ready to emerge from her little sanctuary. When she gathered the courage to look back at Will, she was met with a small yet admittedly anxious smile.

"What do you need?" was all he whispered.

"You. Just… you," she replied, leaning her head against his shoulder. In and out. Breathing.

Another thirty seconds passed. The vision had faded, and Ophelia no longer felt any coldness—she felt only the warmth of Will's body pressed against her own. Figuring she needed to speak to him about what had occurred during her stay on the _Endeavour_ , she murmured, "You asked what he did."

Immediately, Will interjected. "You don't need to answer if you are not comfortable—"

"No, it's okay. You need to know."

And with another deep breath, Ophelia confessed, "When I was aboard the _Endeavour_ , I was shown to a room of my own. I felt out of place and I needed time to myself to relax—a bath was prepared for me, so I bathed and grabbed a towel and moved to don this dress. But when I turned around… he was there."

Ophelia felt Will tense with this last sentence, but whether it was for her sake or his own, his facial expression didn't change. He only nodded and waited.

Another shaking breath in; and then she resumed: "He told me that I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. His hands… they were cold. On my shoulders, down my spine and sides. He—started to kiss my neck and I knew… I knew what was about to happen. And I knew that I was engaged to him, and that if he was perfectly content to… marry me. Right then. But I couldn't. I told him no. And he stopped, and left me to be dressed."

Will exhaled softly, relaxing. He kissed the top of Ophelia's head and murmured, "It sounds to me like you were incredibly brave."

Ophelia sighed as well and smiled shakily. She certainly hadn't thought of herself as brave, in any way. While part of her wanted to scoff at the suggestion, the other half of her was relieved that she was not being thought of as weak or fragile.

She opened her mouth to say as much, but at the look she was given—one filled with adoration and encouragement—her throat grew tight again, this time with gratitude. All she could manage to say was, "I'm sorry."

Will blinked and promptly exclaimed, "You should **_not_** be apologizing. There is nothing to be sorry for. I'm only sorry that you had to undergo the experience… I—I should've tried harder to keep you aboard the _Pearl_."

"You know there was no feasible way for that to have happened," sighed Ophelia. "Beckett would've killed you to get to me… he still would."

"Let him come. Then we'll see who the better swordsman is."

Ophelia giggled darkly; it was true, Beckett would be hard-pressed to win a fight against Will in a fair one-on-one. The only thing was, she was unsure whether her accursed fiancé would fight fair.

A brief silence rested between the two of them as they sat against the wooden wall. Ophelia remained leaning into Will, still being brought immense comfort from his closeness. But in the back of her mind, she knew—they could only remain there for so long before someone would arrive and notice the door to Will's cell was picked.

"What do we do now?" she murmured.

Will breathed softly and said, "Well… I had a plan, but—considering what you just told me, I'm not sure it would be the best idea anymore."

Knowing that a questionable plan was better than none, Ophelia insisted, "It's better than nothing. What is it?"

Hesitantly, Will said, "I had been hoping to draw the attention of the East India Trading Company so I could sneak aboard their ship and attempt to locate the heart."

"I'm getting a sense of déjà vu," mumbled Ophelia, restraining a grin.

Will chuckled as well, thinking exactly the same thing as she—this had been exactly the plan when they were trying to seize the key to Davy Jones's chest. After a moment, he resumed, "The problem was going to be managing to sneak onto their ship. The _Endeavour_ is going to have not only Jones's crew, but Beckett's as well. But… I'd sooner die than watch you be brought back to him."

The woman exhaled softly and glanced at the person she knew was most important in her life. His eyes were far off in the distance, perhaps imaging the risk that came with this plan—and yet also daring to think of the reward if they were to succeed.

And the reward would be great indeed. If they happened to find the heart, they could save Ophelia's father, convince him to release Bootstrap, and begin to destroy the East India Trading Company from the inside-out.

Although Ophelia was deathly afraid of the possibility of meeting with Beckett again, her determination to save her father outweighed her fear.

"Then let's do it," she declared authoritatively, her mouth set.

Will jolted and looked at her, but seeing the fortitude in her gaze, he merely raised an eyebrow and stated, "I know better than to argue with that face. Very well, then. Let's get out of here."

Ophelia nodded and hauled herself to her feet before extending a hand to Will. Then, with a grin on her face, she moved to check outside and see if the coast was clear.

It was—no one was around, not even Jack. Full darkness had descended by this time, which meant sneaking out of the brig wouldn't be difficult at all. She knew that Will had come to the same conclusion based on the grin upon his face.

"Let's go," she smirked—it was swiftly returned. And with a sudden spurt of courage, they emerged from the brig and ran towards a place on-deck where they might not be seen in the night.

* * *

Hello again, lovely people! I've got a message for you lot (other than the always applicable THANK YOU FOR READING!).

I know we've got a few pairings being shipped here, but unfortunately, I cannot have everyone's preferences met in the end. All I can say is that I have thought long and hard about what I really think is best for this fic and for Ophelia as a character, and that does include within the romance department. Regarding where we're leaving off, however... all I can say about **_that_** is...

It ain't over till it's over.

Love you all! I hope you stick around; we're getting close to the beginning of the end...

~Avalain Nightshade

(P.S.- As usual feel free to leave comments and reviews, I'm always open to hearing your thoughts or favorite ice cream flavors or if I misspelled something (DAMN THOSE TYPOS). Again you're all wonderful! Thank you!)


	27. Chapter 26

After finding a rather secluded place on the opposite side of the ship, Ophelia sighed and exclaimed, "What now?"

"We gather their attention!" retorted Will. He laid eyes on a barrel and cocked his head sideways. Ophelia could all but see the light turn on in his face as he grabbed it and hauled it overboard.

"By throwing barrels?" chuckled Ophelia bemusedly as Will moved to grab another barrel.

"I'm all out of giant flags that say 'Pirates Here,'" he grunted with a laugh, resting the barrel on the edge of the ship floor. "Or do you have a better idea?"

Ophelia hummed to herself and gazed around the floor of the ship, looking for something to throw overboard that would catch attention from those aboard the _Endeavour,_ but not those of the _Pearl._

Her eyes landed on the corpse of a former member of the East India Trading Company. She was sad to realize that she had grown so accustomed to the sight of bodies that she no longer noticed them on sight anymore… on the other hand, it appeared everyone else had grown used to them as well. They were almost unnoticeable…

But now that she was looking, there were quite a number of deceased men upon the deck of the _Pearl._ Enough to draw attention, perhaps.

With a lopsided grin, Ophelia exclaimed, "In fact, I **_do_** have a better idea."

Before Will could ask what she meant, she sauntered over to the dead man and started pulling him by the arm. It wasn't incredibly difficult, either—it only took a couple minutes for her to have gathered three bodies next to the barrel that Will was leaning against.

Raising an eyebrow, she exclaimed, "There! Much more attention-grabbing."

Will scoffed but could not hide his laughter. Shaking his head, he yielded, "Alright, you win," and started hauling them into the sea. As he did this, Ophelia continued to scavenge for more dead bodies to bring back to Will.

A half-hour had passed, and Ophelia had gathered all the men that had been lying lifeless upon the deck. Will had disposed of them into the sea, and while there was no guarantee that those upon the _Endeavour_ would see them, they both had the feeling that, for better or worse, the ship would be upon them soon.

"Anything else we should do?" huffed Ophelia, still regaining her breath.

"Hope for the best?"

She laughed and shook her head, figuring that probably **_was_** the best they could do. Before she could reply, however, an all too familiar voice exclaimed, "So, William! You escaped the brig even quicker than I expected. Although perhaps I should've guessed your loyal lass would've assisted."

Ophelia inhaled sharply and darted to her feet. When she turned around, she was able to see none other than Jack Sparrow leaning easily against the corner of the wall, a somewhat amused expression on his face. He waved jovially towards her, a sickly sweet smile upon his face.

She just stared at him, unsure of what to say. She was not sorry for assisting Will, and therefore wouldn't be apologizing for it.

"Tell me, you two, do you notice something? Or rather, do you notice something that is not there to be noticed?"

Will chuckled darkly and answered, "You haven't set off an alarm."

Jack leered and sauntered forward, his boots echoing ominously against the dark wood of the _Pearl._ "Odd, isn't it?" he questioned, gesturing around the scene with a grandiose wave of his arm. "But not as odd as this. Come up with this all by your lonesome, did you?"

Will chuckled and purposefully turned toward Ophelia, who was smirking as she glanced out over the ocean, the last sign of her quick thinking swiftly falling behind. Noting the bemused expression on the Captain's face, Ophelia merely raised an eyebrow and attempted to restrain her complacent grin.

Jack Sparrow chuckled and gazed out over the dark seawater. "This is what you've arrived at?" he mused, raising an eyebrow of his own. "Lead Beckett to Shipwreck Cove to gain his trust, accomplish your own ends? Dear, oh dear. How does your dearly beloved feel about this plan? Were you able to even tell her, before Sao Feng swept her aboard his ship?"

Ophelia blinked, suddenly aware that she hadn't the faintest idea what had happened to Elizabeth after she herself had boarded the _Endeavour._ She hadn't cared to know or ask.

As it was, before Ophelia could question why Elizabeth had been taken amongst Sao Feng's crew, Will just laughed, leaned back, and crossed his arms. "You're a bit behind the times, Jack," he remarked shortly. "Elizabeth and I are no longer engaged."

This caught Jack off-guard. His eyes widened almost as if he were curious; after a brief moment of silence, he snorted, "When the bloody hell did this happen? Certainly not on **_my_** ship. I would've known about it!"

"A number of days ago. The night before we escaped the Locker."

"Well I'll be damned," muttered the Captain, although he no longer seemed to hold any interest in this portion of the conversation. His eyes flickering to Ophelia, he pointed at Will and exclaimed, "But doesn't this little darling disapprove of your idea of killing Jones? They **_are_** related, if you'll recall."

Will's eyes narrowed at Jack and through gritted teeth, spat, "You're twisting my motives, Jack. Ophie and I have planned out a mutually beneficial deal."

Ophelia breathed out slowly, suddenly aware that she had been holding her breath since Jack's accusation. She wanted to trust Will, she did—but she also remembered how throughout their adventure so far, her trust had at times been misplaced.

The Captain glared at Will in response and shook his head. "You can lie to her, William, but I'm a bit more well-acquainted with the art of knavery. I know that you know that Jonesy won't release your father from his imprisonment unless he's dead. So… are you going to hold your end of the bargain with your father or this darling bonny lass?"

"Shut up, Jack," uttered Will, brown eyes ablaze. "I am not like you. I won't backstab Ophelia. I will make this work."

After his statement, Will looked towards Ophelia as if to reassure her that he meant what he said—but he needn't have bothered. She loved him: he wouldn't let her down. Not like this, not after tonight.

As it was, Jack just snorted and waved a hand. His contempt was ever-present in his voice as he exclaimed, "He'll say that now, Ophelia, but when the time comes, he'll betray you. Because he **_knows_** you'll forgive him."

"That's a lie, Jack! I won't hurt her!" shouted Will. He placed a gentle hand upon Ophelia's arm, almost like he wished to turn her away… but try as he might, the woman found herself staring at Jack, his words ringing in her ears.

Because in a way, Jack was right—she had forgiven Will for so much. For almost everything he had done… because she loved him.

If Jack was right, would she forgive him for killing her own father, too?

Will noticed Ophelia's frozen stature and softly whispered, "Ophie? You… you don't actually believe him, do you?"

"She shouldn't. She shouldn't believe either you **_or_** me. That's how it works on this bloody open sea, William. It's every pirate for himself."

Ophelia placed a hand upon Will's and squeezed lightly, signaling that she wanted him to let her go. He seemed to notice this and relented. Free from his grasp, she stumbled over toward the railing of the ship, far more shaken than she wanted to be, far more uncertain in who to trust, whose word to take seriously.

Dead silence occupied the deck while she stared over the murky waters. She felt both Will's and Jack's eyes boring into her back, attempting to gain any indication of what she was thinking, what she might be feeling. But she didn't want them to know—until she was certain her father was safe, the only person she could afford to trust fully was herself.

Taking a deep breath, Ophelia finally whirled around. A tempest was raging in her brown eyes as she stared down the two men and finally declared, "I'm not letting anyone's words influence my goals. I only want to rescue my father—and if **_anyone_** gets in the way of that, they're going to regret it. I will see to that **_personally._** "

Will and Jack blinked, blanching slightly at the burst of violence displayed from the normally calm Ophelia.

Another brief silence… it was Jack who broke it.

With a sad sort of sigh, the Captain gazed plaintively at Ophelia and murmured, "Just prepare yourself for the worst, love. It's always those closest to you who hurt you the deepest."

Will reeled towards Jack, anger set as hard as stone in his features. Fury was in his voice as he retorted, "Stop attempting to manipulate her, Sparrow! Ophelia is more than capable of making her own choices." He then turned back to Ophelia and, his words considerably softer, "If you do not trust me completely, I understand. Just know that I only wish to help you and make you happy, as I have wished for you since we were reunited."

" ** _Now_** who's manipulating her?" grumbled Jack.

The two men glared tersely at each other for the longest five seconds of Ophelia's life. She saw the animosity between them within their eyes, within their faces, within their stances. It almost looked like they were preparing to brawl the other—before either of them could break the tense silence, Ophelia darted forward in between them.

"Enough!" she screeched, pushing each of them back a couple paces. "Now is not the time to begin fighting one another! We all have a common enemy at the moment: Lord Beckett. Even though we have separate ideas on **_how_** to fracture his power, the fact remains that we all wish to do so. Turning ourselves against each other will only weaken us."

Two heavy sighs surrounded her—and then Will's voice, back to its normal temperament, said, "She's right. We have a job to do: break Beckett's control over the seas. I'm sticking with the plan that Ophelia and I originally crafted. I'm going aboard the _Endeavour._ Ophie, if you wish to join me, I will keep you safe from Beckett and any other harm that could come your way. I swear that to you. If you decide to stay on the _Pearl_ … then I will see you soon."

Will's eyes locked with hers once again and shared a knowing look. Ophelia watched as her love walked towards the edge of the railing and, after the smallest of smiles shot her direction, took a deep breath and plunged into the ocean below.

Ophelia stared at the place where Will disappeared and sighed. Although she was not incredibly eager to get sopping wet, she knew that her father would be onboard the _Endeavour,_ and so it would be wisest for her to jump, too.

"Ophelia."

Her gaze swept to Jack, who was stepping towards her, one hand half-heartedly extended as if he already knew how hopeless a gesture it was. Seeing that he had gathered her attention, however, the Captain resumed what he was going to say.

"If you go onto Beckett's ship again, lassie, I won't be there to help you."

Ophelia exhaled and nodded. While over the months Jack had proven his character, Jones was still on the _Endeavour_. Plus… she wouldn't be able to let Will go without aid. Therefore, she declared, "I know, Jack. But I must help my father. And I will not let Will go alone."

"Doesn't this sound familiar," grumbled Jack.

"I'm surprised to hear that you believed the situation would change, Captain," she retorted, raising an eyebrow of her own.

"Well… I had—hoped," spluttered Jack indignantly, although he waved his arms largely and turned around so he was no longer facing Ophelia. He started swaggering away from her as well, but if the Captain had hoped that his distracting mannerisms would keep her from realizing his comment, he would be sorely disappointed.

Ophelia noted what Jack had said and found it rather odd. So, uncrossing her arms and taking a step forward, she demanded, "What do you mean by that?"

"Huh? Wot?" exclaimed Jack, sauntering over to the edge of the ship as if to scour the waters for any sign of the dead bodies that had been tossed overboard.

But Ophelia was about sick and tired of the games—any of them. Whether they be Beckett's, Will's, or Jack's, she was sick of playing. It was time for her to run her **_own_** game, and in order to gain the upper hand, she needed to spill the cards of the people who were involved.

And so, stomping forward and spinning Jack around by his shoulder, Ophelia repeated, "What. Did. You. Mean. By. That?"

Jack's eyes widened in faux innocence as he rapidly shook his head and retorted, "Nothing, love. Nothing at all."

Ophelia didn't believe him for a second. The panic in his eyes when she had spun him around told her that whatever it was certainly not nothing.

And so it was with the utmost conviction that Ophelia stared him dead in the eye and demanded, " ** _Stop lying to me, Jack._** I've had enough of it. Do you know something about _The Endeavour_ that I do not?"

"Not _The Endeavour,_ Ophelia."

"Then what? About Beckett? About Will?"

"About **_you!_** "

The woman blinked and stepped backward as the pirate blustered, "I cannot watch you endanger yourself, not when I can't be there with you!" He filled the gap that had emerged between them in one step and cupped her face in his hands as he added, voice barely a whisper, "I care about you too much to watch that and survive."

Ophelia's throat burned. She slowly began to shake her head—this was so much. So much was happening, had happened, she was beginning to feel lightheaded.

"Stay with me, Ophelia," pleaded the Captain, his voice reflecting how truly much he **_did_** care, he **_did_** mean it. "Stay so I can protect you. So I can…"

He didn't finish, leaving whatever else he wanted to say up to her.

Everything hurt: Ophelia's heart hurt. She cared about Jack, that was true, but not in the way that he desired, not in that way. She cared enough to feel immense guilt and sadness on her dear friend's behalf, but not enough to abandon the man whom she had loved for near half a decade, the man who was waiting for her in the ocean.

And so she whispered, "Jack, I… I can't."

The Captain, for the first time in a long, long while, was completely stoic. His deeply brown eyes glazed over as they drank in Ophelia's own; he didn't even blink as she stared him down, vainly attempting to read any sort of answer in his face.

After what felt like an eternity, Jack Sparrow sighed heavily and whispered, "Just as well." His voice was delicate as he pushed a stray strand of hair behind Ophelia's ear; the same damnably stubborn piece as always. With a hopeless smile, he mumbled, "I would've only broken your heart anyway."

Ophelia swallowed, tears once again lining her face. Tears. It was always tears these days.

"Jack—"

"It's alright," he interrupted. He gently placed a finger to her lips to silence her. His brown eyes were sadly playful as he chortled to himself and mused, "I knew it from the beginning. The one woman I would ever truly desire… the one woman I could never have."

A brief silence overtook the two of them. Ophelia was clueless on what to say, what to do—she cared for Jack, that was true, but what they had had was never anything more than a wild dream. Something that could become real in only the most impossible of possible situations…

"Jack—" she tried to say; but again he interrupted her.

"See you at Shipwreck Cove, love," he declared.

And he pushed her off the deck, towards the ocean below.

* * *

RAHHHHH I am back and I just cranked out this whole chapter tonight wow I hope you guys like it I am so tired it is so late

Thank you for reading this story you guys are the greatest! Please leave your thoughts, comments, questions, concerns, and song recommendations for me in that there white rectangle box thing below this message!

Have a great day/night! Until next time!

~Avalain Nightshade


	28. Chapter 27

It only took ten to fifteen minutes for the _Endeavour_ to come across Will and Ophelia in the ocean. When the two were fished out of the water, the men of the company instantly recognized Ophelia and sent for Lord Beckett, who arrived with a montage of blankets and a new dress for her to change into.

"Are you alright, darling?" he fretted, grey eyes wide. He reached out as if to touch Ophelia's face—but then he seemed to think the better of it and retracted his hand.

Realizing that he was expecting an answer, Ophelia swallowed and nodded. "Yes… I'm fine. Just a bit cold."

Beckett seized another blanket from the soldier standing next to him and draped it over Ophelia's shoulders. Only after this was done did he turn towards Will and, grey eyes blazing, demanded, "What did you think you were doing, having her jump in the ocean?"

"I believe she was **_pushed_** by none other than Jack Sparrow," Will retorted calmly, raising an eyebrow. Before either Beckett or Ophelia could remark or protest, he resumed with, "But the important thing now is that I have information for you, Lord Beckett. Information I believe you'll find to be extremely valuable."

The leader of the EITC straightened up and glanced over Will's features, as if scanning for a sign of trickery. Apparently finding none, he nodded curtly and responded in an authoritative tone, "Then you and I shall have to discuss in my quarters. Miss Bennett, would you like to come with us? I can send for something hot to drink."

Even though she was not quite certain she desired to be in Beckett's immediate vicinity, the fact that Will would also be close by made her decision much easier. She said nothing, but smiled prettily and nodded.

Lord Beckett returned her smile and turned to lead them into the Captain's Quarters—Will caught her eye and shot her a small smile too, although it was clear that he was still concerned for her personal safety.

Once inside the Captain's Quarters, Lord Beckett retrieved a chair for Ophelia to sit in. She relayed him her thanks and sat, pulling her shawl slightly tighter around her shoulders. Her powder-blue dress was still soaked, however, so the shawl did little to assist her.

Will seemed to notice her discomfort first. Keeping his voice carefully devoid of too much affection, he mentioned, "Lord Beckett, before we begin it might be kind to allow Ophelia to change into warmer clothing."

"I quite agree," said the Lord of the EITC. He gestured toward a changing screen that stood in the corner of the room, effectively blocking out all view of the room. Placing a hand on Ophelia's shoulder, he stated, "You are welcome to change behind the screen. Or, if you prefer, you can enter the room next door."

Ophelia couldn't stand the thought of reentering the other room. So she merely shrugged and answered, "This is as good a place as any. Thank you," before rising and walking toward the screen. Once behind it, she triple-checked the edges to ensure that neither of the men in the room could see her in any capacity. Finally satisfied, she stripped off her damp clothes and more-or-less raced to put on her new undergarments and pale-pink dress…

She froze and stared at the new dress. It looked almost exactly like the one she had sewn herself for Will's wedding, so long ago in Port Royal…

It was almost as if Beckett had remembered what it looked like, and had had another one made for her.

Although she detested what the man was doing with the seas and with her father, she couldn't help but feel the slightest bit moved. The presentation of the dress simply must have been intentional—and it was actually quite sweet.

Just as Ophelia was about to step out from behind the curtain, the door to the Captain's Quarters slammed open and a familiar voice exclaimed, "I cannot be summoned like some mongrel pup!"

 _Her father._

Ophelia took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. So it was true—Beckett truly **_did_** have full authoritarian control over him.

"Apparently, you **_can._** I believe the two of you know each other," remarked Beckett's voice.

Ophelia peeked out from behind the changing screen and nearly laughed aloud, despite the precariousness of the situation. Will was waving amicably towards Davy Jones, and the cheekiest grin was upon his face as he did so.

Jones chuckled as well, shaking his head. His tentacles quivered in either amusement or anger—Ophelia couldn't tell which—as he exclaimed, "A-ha! Come teh join my crew again, Master Turner?"

Will reached for something upon the table he was sitting at: a teacup. He took a casual sip before shaking his head and replying, "Not yours. His. Oh, and Jack Sparrow sends his regards."

"Jack Sparrow?" repeated Jones, disbelief filling his features.

"Didn't you tell him, Lord Beckett? We rescued Jack from the Locker along with the _Black Pearl._ "

At this statement, Jones's expression became murderous. He launched forward one step and jabbed a lobster claw towards the leader of the EITC and demanded, "What else haven't you told me?"

Beckett, however, was not affected by this threatening posture in the slightest. Instead, he turned away from the cursed creature and noticed Ophelia standing tentatively behind the changing screen. Upon seeing her, his face softened; he glanced over her figure once and sheepishly murmured, "I hope you like the dress."

Ophelia couldn't help smiling as she looked at it again. Even the roses upon her dress fell in the same pattern that she had stitched herself. Twirling around once, she reassured, "It's almost exactly how I remember it. It's lovely. Thank you."

"What is **_she_** doin' here?" exclaimed the voice of the _Dutchman's_ Captain. Ophelia glanced back toward her father and saw that he was stricken, his sea-blue eyes wide with confusion and surprise.

Beckett blinked before glaring back at Davy Jones indignantly and retorting, "Have some respect, sir. You are addressing my fiancée."

" ** _Fiancée?_** " blustered Jones. Were his face able to turn red, Ophelia was sure that her father would've turned the color of puce at this word alone.

The Lord of the East India Trading Company nodded.

A terse silence filled the room—and it was Jones who broke it with the malcontent grumble of, "I don't like it."

"Well that's too bad, then," retorted Beckett.

Ophelia had to resist the urge to sigh. It was as if she were trapped in a room with three full-grown three year olds.

Ignoring Beckett's comment, Jones turned towards Will and muttered, as if searching for validation, "Well, what do **_you_** think? Do yeh like this either?"

Will shrugged and sipped his tea once again before answering with, "Ophelia is a strong-willed woman capable of making her own decisions." After this was said, he turned towards her and shot her the slightest of smirks—an expression that only **_she_** would understand.

Ophelia breathed out slowly, hoping that her father knew better than to reveal why he was so involved with her engagement. To distract from the current conversation, she moved back towards the chair that Beckett had pointed out earlier and sat, allowing Beckett to pour her a cup of tea.

"Milk or sugar?" he asked pleasantly.

"Sugar, please," she requested. He turned towards the sugar and began to mix it into her teacup—Ophelia looked at Will as he did so and exchanged a curt nod. It was time to get down to business.

"Didn't we have important information to discuss?" asked Ophelia next.

"Yes indeed," replied Beckett, turning back toward Ophelia and gingerly handing her the porcelain teacup. She smiled and took a sip as her fiancé continued speaking. "There is a troublesome issue, Jones. I believe you are acquainted with a person called Calypso."

Jones snorted and grumbled, "Not a person, a heathen god. One who delights in cursing men with their wildest dreams and then revealing them to be hollow and naught but ash. The world is well rid of her."

The tone of his voice suggested that what he was describing was something he had experienced first-hand. Ophelia couldn't help but wonder what else she didn't know about her father.

She took another sip of tea. It tasted different than she remembered it tasting when she made it for herself and Will in Port Royal.

"Not quite so well, actually. The Brethren Court intends to release her."

At Will's comment, a flash of fear ran through Jones's face. It was as fleeting as a bolt of lightning, but it was just as visible, and it resonated within his voice as he uncharacteristically stammered, "N-No! They cannot! The first Court promised to imprison her forever! **_That_** was our agreement!"

"Your agreement?" pointed out Ophelia innocently enough. She drank the rest of her tea and held the cup in her lap, peering at her father as she did.

Her curious expression prompted the Captain of the _Dutchman_ to look away from her and confess, "I… showed them how teh bind her. She could not be trusted. She gave me no **_choice!_** We must act before they release her."

Will stood up from his chair and sauntered over towards Ophelia's father, looking him up and down. He narrowed his eyes as he observed his posture, his expression, his tone of voice. After a split second, Will's own eyes widened as he pieced together, "You loved her. She's the one… and then you betrayed her."

Jones reeled to face Will and glared spitefully at him, snarling, "She **_pretended_** to love me! She betrayed **_me!_** "

This only prompted Will to shake his head and step back towards the table, grabbing his teacup and taking another sip. With a look on his face that suggested thinly veiled contempt, he said, "And after which betrayal did you cut your heart out, I wonder?"

A quick _CRASH_ —Ophelia yelped and stared, wide-eyed, at her father and her beloved as they glared at each other. Her head was swimming, the shattering sound of the teacup against the floor ringing through her ears. But that sound vanished as Jones jutted a claw in Will's direction and hissed, "Do **_not_** test me, Turner. Ophelia here or not, I will not hesitate teh gut you like a fish."

Unfazed by the blatant threat, Will gestured to the broken shards of the teacup that Jones had smashed out of his hand and stated matter-of-factly, "I hadn't finished that."

"Stop it," pleaded Ophelia, launching up from her seat. She felt faint due to all the chaos that was happening in the room—she stumbled towards Will and Jones and weakly pried them away from each other. "Don't do this…"

Will and Jones took a step away from each other, but neither of them relinquished their death glares. It was Will who spoke first, pointing a finger at Jones in return and dictating, " ** _You_** will free my father." He then turned to Beckett and added, "And **_you_** will guarantee Ophelia's safety. Along with my own."

"Miss Bennett has never been in any mortal peril alongside me," returned Beckett smoothly, taking a step forward and placing a hand on Ophelia's shoulder.

Ophelia, however, was having trouble standing upright as it was. At even this light amount of force, she stumbled forward, dropping her teacup. It hit the floor with a delicate _clang_ —Will lunged out and caught her before she could hit the ground, taking her into his arms and gazing into her eyes.

"Ophelia?" he whispered, placing the back of his hand against her forehead.

"Take your hands off of her!" shouted Beckett, rocketing forward and pushing Will away from Ophelia. The Lord tried to usher her back into her chair, but Ophelia resisted, her eyes locked on Will's.

"Not until I find out what's wrong!" returned Will evenly. He stood and rushed forward to Ophelia—another _clang_ sounded through the room.

Everyone looked to see what had made the noise: four pairs of eyes found Ophelia's teacup, sitting empty upon the floor, a tiny chip now flawing its rim.

Ophelia blinked and stared at it. The tea… the tea. It had tasted funny.

It had tasted **_wrong._**

"Will," she gasped, desperately reaching for him. Beckett released her as she wriggled away from him, towards Will, towards the person who would keep her safe, who would keep her safe no matter what even though… even though...

Ophelia exhaled and grabbed at her chest. It was starting to feel tight. It was hard to breathe. Like it had been on the _Pearl._ Tears were beginning to line her eyes at the pain of her shallow breaths and at the anger she felt for herself, for not being more cautious, for not foreseeing this…

"Will— ** _Will_** —the… tea…"

She burst into tears in his arms, feeling herself become more faint with each second. She crumpled to her knees, Will supporting her as she went down. She couldn't **_believe_** she'd let her guard down again—she had made this fool mistake in the _Endeavour_ before and now it was happening **_again_** and this time there was no Jack to help her escape, he was on the _Pearl_ and there would be no miracles.

"Never in any mortal peril with yeh, eh? Yeh didn't say she wasn't in **_danger._** What… did yeh do to her."

Jones did not say it as a request. It was said as a **_demand._**

Ophelia whimpered and looked into her father's eyes—the only place he dared show any emotion.

As soon as she did this, Jones roared and leapt toward Beckett, claws extended. Beckett shielded himself from the attack with his own arms, although one of his hands got caught in Jones's grip. The Lord of the EITC bellowed in pain and wrenched himself free, darting around the other side of the tea table and reaching inside his jacket.

The Captain of the _Dutchman_ made to follow him, but when it was revealed what Beckett was holding, he stopped cold.

A cloth sack was in Beckett's right hand, and he was holding it up as if to taunt Jones with it. In his left hand was a knife—his left hand was bloody from where Jones had seized it; an inky black lightning bolt was already beginning to seep through the skin on the back of his hand.

"Give me a reason, Jones," hissed Beckett, taking another step forward. "Give me a reason to dispatch you from your service."

Jones was silent, his sea-blue eyes piercing. He looked back at Ophelia ever so slightly—seeing that she had his attention, she cried out and shook her head rapidly, exclaiming breathily, "No… no… don't."

Her father's figure became hazier with each passing second.

"Ophie," whispered Will. She heard the agony in his voice, the fury. "I'm not letting you go…"

But Ophelia hardly heard his words. Seeing that Beckett was still poised to stab her father's heart, she somehow managed to gather the strength to hiccup, "If you hurt him, B-Beckett… you'll—you'll regret it. You… need… him. He has the—f-fastest… ship. Only chance of reaching the… the _Pearl_ with Calypso."

Another tense silence filled the room as Ophelia's words took effect. The only sound was Ophelia's ragged breathing as she struggled to stay conscious.

At last, after what felt like years, Beckett shouted, "Mercer!"

The door to the room instantly opened, and in walked a seven men: the leader wore a brown suit and peered around the room with soulless eyes. Apparently unconcerned with anything that was happening, he turned toward Lord Beckett and asked, "Yes, my Lord?"

Beckett pointed to Davy Jones with the knife he held in his wounded hand and ordered, "Please escort the Captain of the _Dutchman_ back to his ship. Once that is done, return here and—"

He stopped short, his eyes landing upon the mark he had received during the scuffle. He held up a finger to pause the conversation and reached for a handkerchief to wipe away the blood…

When his eyes landed upon the newly acquired scar, he stumbled backwards. Placing the cloth sack—but not the knife—back inside the pocket of his waistcoat, he glanced between his own scar and Ophelia.

Back and forth.

"Your scar… when I gave you my ring... you told me you had it since you were an infant," murmured Beckett. His voice was cold, and his face no longer hinted towards any sort of affection—he was careful and controlled, as though he were liable to explode at any second.

Ophelia couldn't respond even if she wanted to. She blinked rapidly, attempting to keep the scene in view. Attempting to stay conscious, to ensure that Jones and Will would get out of this alive.

As it was, Beckett didn't seem to need a response from Ophelia. The answer was spinning through his eyes: Jones's surprise at her arrival, his disapproval with Ophelia's engagement, the fact that he acquiesced to her plead for peace between him and Will, the fact that he outright attacked Beckett upon realizing he had put something in Ophelia's tea… clearly, Beckett was beginning to understand.

Ophelia sniffled—Will held onto her tighter, shifting so that he shielded her from Beckett.

He needn't have bothered: pointing at Jones with the knife, the Lord of the EITC softly asked, "Are you her father?"

Davy Jones did not answer.

It was enough for Beckett. Whirling back to Mercer, he resumed his command. "We are setting off for Shipwreck Cove with all haste. Take Jones and Master Turner to the _Dutchman's_ brig. I will take care of Miss Bennett myself."

Mercer and two of his men began to lead Jones out of the Captain's Quarters—the other four began to pry Will away from Ophelia. But Will wasn't having it—he leapt up and began fighting them away, kicking one in the chest and causing the man to tumble into a dresser. He punched another in the throat, making that man keel over…

Seeing the commotion, Jones began to fight back, too. He head-butted one man and knocked him out completely cold—but before either Jones or Will could make another move, Beckett launched forward and held his knife to Will's throat.

Ophelia screamed and lunged out a hand from where she lay upon the ground. Her vision was clouded to the point she could only look at Will when she summoned her utmost concentration—and that was what she did as she sobbed, "Will… Father… please— ** _go…_** Will…"

Will shook his head, still struggling to free his arms from the two guards that were still conscious and charged to bring him to the brig. Tears in his eyes, he whispered, "Ophie, no. I can't leave you here. Not like this."

Ophelia blinked, her eyesight failing. She felt herself on the verge of oblivion—with her last breath, she sighed, " ** _Go,_** " before being swallowed by darkness.

* * *

*Quick Disclaimer: _I promise nothing horrific is going to happen to Ophelia. She will be okay._

With that being said... Hello, lovely readers! I updated before two weeks were up! Isn't that crazy? Miracles do happen! But I will warn you in advance: it might be a bit before I update next because I have a vacation with my family coming up and then a choir symposium thingy thing later on in the month. So... I hope you'll forgive me if it takes a little while to write the next chapter. Who knows, though? I'm feeling awfully inspired to write for _The Daughter of the Sea_ right now.

As always, feel free to leave your comments, concerns, and criticisms right in that there white box just below. It always means the WORLD to get that email titled: "Review: The Daughter of the Sea." Gives me the warm fuzzies. :3

Until next time!

~Avalain Nightshade


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